Whirled Whore Too

Suited more for an Whomunculus post-title than here, but personas necessarily bleed through their own crypsis. And in this state of withdrawal, I again excavate the 4th pillar of personal health: Sleeping, Eating, Exercise and Writing [EWES?]

These are all foundational, and not ideals in themselves. They're skeletal and load-bearing; not essence but ossence. And I'd always lumped writing into a category of luxury, or even superfluity. However, while other people don't seem to need to write, I do.

Licorice root wedged firmly in cheek, I'd like to redress my *blithe* views on love from 11/1/11. For starters, I stress ROMANTIC love. For middlers, I wasn't done. And for enders, even if I was done, why cannot I say and argue something I don't believe in? Polemics aren't just for fuckfaces, fuckface.

Have you ever walked away from someone's love, not because you weren't satisfied, but because you couldn't bare to see it fade? The dendritic crystalline growth pruned to preserve. It was too powerful, and you knew it. Or you could see the stark frenzy accreting in your lover's eyes, and you forfeit the entanglement, so neither suffer the retinal death. Perhaps the true romantic knows this, and would choose to be digested by the consequences of imagination rather than the pedestrianization of the L/other. Perhaps you can only save it by ending it prematurely. Ab'amor'tion.


Polarised light micrograph of crystals of quinidine, a drug for treating heart 'arrythmia' originally derived from the cinchona tree. It stabilises the heart beat

But maybe not, as true love spreads its blossoms in the strangest of seasons, it is so often acausal. As the synapses sclerotize and habituate to the L/other's stimulus, paranoia need not tyranneyes. By now, the life-furtherance of your drug-addled brain should have begun to be realized. You love this person to achieve your dreams, his and hers or hers and hers or his and his. Your minds combined in kind to find that your futures share the same sunshine. Objectives are enhanced, not inhibited. And your L/other will confront their fears for you.

Whirled Whore Too: You are being lied, too. Habitually refining the first-dose, the inintimate is outside. In the fucking reign. You've laid yourself, open, for further -job insecurity. May as well be honest about it, cause at least then you'll know when to be/use your Johnnies.