REMOVE THE MOTION AND FOLLOW THE EASE.

Every morning I do my best to stay "normal." I think of Hemingway and tell myself that before lunch I will have chosen a foreign war to get interested in. I will plan for my first few wives and what sort of children I will have with them. My first wife, the bookish intellectual who never touches my balls during a blowjob. The charming social butterfly who freezes up when I finger her asshole. The woman in plain clothes with the belly laugh, she'll die with me at the point of old age. Ignoring numerous affairs with prostitutes and my penchant for repeated fucking even after my ejaculate has run dry. She won't love me but we will find a common ground of trust and friendship. She'll wear a bikini poolside and skinny dip when we are alone. We will never have children, knowing that the faults and poor qualities in each other do not need to be repeated in a child.

Yet none of these future women will get to see what I need them to. Certain conversations will never get finished and my need to accomodate others will leave me unsatisfied with life. I am on the path to chronic depression shadowed by a heavy heart that gives to those I love, or think I should love. I play my part because I wrote it. I want to see how it ends. Living life as an experiment, hoping that I'm right and in the end those around me will understand what it was I was trying to do. "What are you trying to do?"

Take control. Of everything inside of me. Swing my desire. Punish my timidness with abrupt bouts of over confidence. Designing a man for myself to become, and sculpting my being into that man. The Perfect Man. Undying and unflinching. The giver and the taker. The builder and the destroyer. The only living God amongst those that do not believe it is possible.

A lonely soul of fire.