Poem Number 12380380221213823802320

 That moment when the world doesn’t make sense.

When each breath you draw in is a gasp of self-loathe

When clicking aimlessly through F-ed photos

When scrolling down the loudly silent buzz of a T-wat feed

Each slip of a knuckle, each tap of the fingertip

Is testimony to your (incomplete) worth

That girl on a blind date at Café Des Croissant

That woman with the perfect crease in her shoulders

That boy with Proust on the banks of The Isis

That man with a paper published at 24

That, them, they, this, that.

The world looks at you, expectantly

Where is the ‘you’ in that sentence?

What will ‘you’ do for the world

That someone else hasn’t done already?

You wonder and ask.

Does the world even need me?

What is

My role in this quiet madness

Where screams are stifled into blinking dots

Where to cheat is to be cheated

Consume, and be consumed?

That is the way of the world.

Frenzied panic trembles through your fingers

Yet the addiction perseveres

Click through this, Tap through to that.

The neck permanently bows

That digital luminescence 

In such times, I think of you.

I think of you and breathe

Remember?

The taste of your thumb

The secret swirly sun on your cheek

Infinite calm?

If this is what they call love,

I’ll have more of it. The

Significance in your insignificance

The jovial jest. The pendulous passion.

 The concrete confidence

That is you and me.

Let me have sex.

I don't like America. Why? 
America is a land where sex is as casual as taking a sip of water in between meals-- not particularly necessary, not fully required, just a pleasant satiation. Sex is understood as a necessity but strangely not for procreation and not just for pleasure but as an act done out of sheer boredom.

Netflix isn't working tonight, let me have sex.
I'm feeling a little low tonight, let me have sex.
My dishwasher isn't working, let me have sex.
I got a bad grade today, let me have sex.
She seems to want it, let me have sex.

I have been told my entire life that sex is something that happens with one person. Sex is something that needs attention, time and a whole lot of affection. Sex is something that will change the way you function and attaches you even more closely to your partner. 
And I have waited for sex, waited for marriage simply because I believe so intensely that letting another human enter your body is something not to be taken lightly. 

Believe my shock when I learnt about sport fucking. Pick up a girl in a bar. Sleep with her. Bang her all night and then disappear, never to be heard from again. This is causal sex. Where the act of stripping and entering a person is something done for sport, for boredom, for a quick release to help you function better at work the next day. Something as necessary as a cup of coffee from Starbucks. 
Okay I see this. I know about this. 

And in response I am not afraid to say; 

Bullshit. 


For all those who argue that sex can be casual-- I ask you this. If sex were so casual, would we not be walking around naked? Wouldn't a casual hello be replaced with a quick grinding of the genitals and gasps of short lived pleasure? If sex were casual, why even create wisps of underwear that need to be delicately removed? If sex were casual, wouldn't we talk about it to our children as soon as they were old enough to talk? If sex were casual wouldn't we learn that as we learned to say hello? If sex were casual wouldn't rape be just a way of the norm? If sex were casual, why would it not be okay to fuck every moveable thing in sight? Trees, children, cats, dogs, goats, big enough flowers and if you really love them, butterflies?

America will drown simply because it teaches its citizens to be mere bodies that function on desire and consumption instead of persons with souls who let themselves believe in higher purposes. 

For me, the sexual act is an act of love. It is just enough love to take off your clothes, your armor, your identity and reveal yourself in the flesh to just another person. Take it. Take all of me. Take the sagging skin under my armpits and love it. Bite into the appendix scar on my belly and love it. Trace the stretchmarks on my lower back and love them. Run your fingers over the prickly hair on my upper thigh and love it. Press the tip of your thumb into the flesh of my heel and love it. Comb out the tangles of my hair and love it. Taste the salt of my lips and love it. Caress the bump on my bottom and love it. Press your body on to mine and love it insanely. I am giving myself to you. I reveal all my flaws, that I take such care to hide every day from the world and give them to you. And then I take your flaws.

And your flaws?

I see none. Just an unfaltering gaze that is impossible to look away from.. Slimmer than average legs that exude strength. A soft down of hair covering the entirety of your body. Shoulders that push back to carry you forward. A few spots under your chin. I take them all just for that damned smile that gives me heartache. That smile. That smile is anything but casual.

If sex was casual, nobody would have it. The genitals are the ugliest part of your body. Look at them. They protrude and wiggle unnecessarily, unattractively. Rather it's a flaw that you will accept during sex because of the very real, very overpowering feeling of love.

Fuck what they say. Sex isn't casual and it's never going to be.

Either that.

Or maybe this is just the ranting of a hormonal 24 year old virgin.