(27) The Sorrows of Young Writer March 8
March 08 2016
“People with no morals often considered themselves more free, but mostly they lacked the ability to feel or to love. So they became swingers. The dead fucking the dead.”
I know her since yesterday. Now I sit in her apartment sipping jasmine tea and I know I will be undressing her soon. She touches me a lot when we talk. She is by no means beautiful. She has blond hair and green eyes that gaze into one’s soul neither with an insistence nor evasion. She…
Why is it that once men smell a pussy they either turn to animals or act indifferent? Excuse my boldness, but I think that is the predator in us. The problem is that too many pussies have become readily available - a fast food sex, no quality, inferior ingredients, substandard experience… That is why so many of men are no longer predators. They hunt for easy pussy; often licking their wounds of insecurities, they became hyenas feeding on dead bodies of these innocent prostitutes.
I admit this might be too harsh. But if you feel offended you are a prostitute or a scavenger. And you are neither so do not feel offended my dear. Nevermind me. I like to place a mirror in front of other people but I do rarely look into one myself.
I do not know whether I should sleep with her or not. Do I become a scavenger? ‘The dead fucking dead.’ I have a choice between the sweetness of her sweat and the sour smell of the sewer in the wet streets outside, in this city I do not know. What would you do if you were in my shoes?
She is coming back from the bathroom so I have to finish writing…