Tuesday, May 1, 2012

In response to the slightly aggravated question: Why are there so many bottoms in Seattle?

In all honesty I am over the whole top/bottom dichotomy
if you are not some sort of switch,
or at least into flexibility
chances are you will only half -interest me.
I bore easily under the spectrum of such narrow sexual repertoire
and yes I know there it’s a lot of depth there to be plumbed on either side of that coin
but I am more than just a spelunker in one kind of sexual experiences
I am fucking astronaut
When I play
I like the entire universe as my playground
it's important to have a well oiled rocket and
a basic fluency in the language we're going to use as sexplorerers
and within those parameters
I want to be able to go anywhere,
and to have each of my crew members capable of holding any post
and even sometimes
taking up more than one position.

But it’s not just preference I am frustrated at failing to court;
There is something about Seattle
something about which I find myself confusedly reticent.
It’s a habbit
the way some folks bury their intent in a nervous pile of being polite.
In this beautiful, briny, salt-breasted city
it sticks like a burr to my skin
adding to the geography of my story
and I don’t want no more of it.
It happens in bars, at parties,
This toxic hesitance floats out over drinks.

So, while I don’t know why there are so many bottoms in seattle
I worry that for some
being supplicant is so much easier than being honest.

This does not appeal to me.
Personally or politically.
Come forward only if you are sure of you.
I no longer find such shyness or compliance attractive
I have taught that flavor out of my palate
and no that doesn't mean that I don't want you
but unless you say it in words unmistakable that you want me too
I might have to turn the both of us down.
I don’t want power you didn’t ask for me to take
I don’t want to give you anything that you didn’t ask for.

So yes I want you
but I am tired of being the first one to speak so freely.
I know it is scary but I am tiring of this anxiety.
I am unwilling to endure or delivers blows that have been softened.

Demure is a fashion I feel I am continually taking off.
I want to share our truths unburdened
under the flickering light of our hearts going wild
fluttering in double-mouthed authenticity.

It is okay to tell me that you are afraid
I want
to be with you in moments of vulnerability.
I would cradle your words between my lungs
and let those concerns be rocked by the solid pumping of blood

I want to be with you
and you being with me requires courage, honesty
and clear consentful words.
maybe more courage than anything else
But that’s my price of admission.
I want your consent flush in my ears before I get any closer.

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