lovers

I have many lovers, but I'm not a slut. I fuck and get fucked by one or another and feel the lapse from touch to touch. One I've had for years, another for a complicated 3 months, and others for not long and not much longer I'm sure.

It's ridiculous, a bit trite, but true when i say I see myself in every single one of them. It's also true that each one's differences from me can many times alienate me with their consequential presumptions and impressing desires.

See my reflection and see it dissipate to someone else...

Maybe it is you who can save me.

A life of moments captured in smoke and mirrors has a certain charm to it... very atmospheric... and getting lost in the interpretations of interpretations, meanings take on a drama that can be, well, life affirming... Ever notice how life affirming doesn't necessarily connote purpose? Why is it we need to feel alive when we are already living? Why we need purpose to keep going when we're already moving towards tomorrow?

Losing yourself in love is as profound as finding who you really are in it.

Nonetheless I cannot accept another for who they really are, hence so many.

Is it really all about myself?

One only likes to suck cock. The other only likes to top. Another only likes to cuddle and make out. I can't remember anymore what I even like.

One feels we need a more farther reaching and efficient public transportation system. Another feels marriage is only for the straights. And still how many of them care about not much more than this or that band, this or that tv show? Most of them.

And one of them, if I recall, has something to say about how everything could be better. Again, most of them.

There are dreams somewhere in them, and I can't remember where mine are.

If there weren't the choice of only sucking cock or only doing anal then making a claim that monogamy just isn't natural in the natural world (actually it's quite prevalent in the animal world)would be easy. But there are always preferences and these choices stem from an idea of a single thing. The question of one or many disseminates into inevitable hypocrisy and irony.

If you're so goddamn picky, that implies you want something, someone particular. You don't find that ironic, you whore?

Personally, I love irony.

... so who can save me from this mess of choices? Certainly not myself. I'm the reason I'm in this mess in the first place.

I'm not looking for a prince charming, and... I'm not looking for myself. I'm looking for a dream, I think. How does one deal with the frustration of the dream/real conflict?

I had a dream recently that one of them, standing sordid and tall and with a smirk said:

I wanted to be like you
I wanted everything
So I tried to be like you
and I was swept away
I didn't know that it was cold and
you needed someone to show you the way
I took your hand and we figured out that
when the tide comes
I'll take you away

Funny, too, 'cause I really love that song.