dis connect

ego nips the buds of free love

sometimes you meet someone and feel openly lustful (or soulful, to use the latest RSD terminology) towards them at first,
but as the plot thickens (may take only micro-seconds)
your face takes over your balls
and you lose that initial spark
that pure visceral connection
to some clingy, needy, self-deceptive BS
to a personal, face-bound drama,
a narcissistic narrative

ego nips love in its bud thus

face/ego/resistance/fear or whatever we call it
encrustates our essence and
keeps us buffered from the threat/challenge of sheer ecstasy
from further depths of experience
from forging novel connections

being real trumps it all
that state of being SPACE without FACE
transcending the masquerade


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