Sex is full of lies. The body tries to tell the truth. But, it’s usually too battered with rules to be heard, and bound with pretenses so it can hardly move.
Just anything to get people to think. I mean if you can get a whole room full of drunk, stoned people to actually wake up and think, you’re doing something.
I offer images-I conjure memories of freedom that can still be reached-like the Doors, right? But we can only open the doors-we can’t drag people through.
They fight anyone who tries to break those chains. It’s their security How can they expect me or anyone else to set them free if they don’t really want to be free?
We felt comfortable in our skins, enjoyed the news that our senses released to us, admired our dirt, cultivated our scars, and could not comprehend this unworthiness.
How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio.
