How about a poem about sex and death to kick off February?! Woo! (Performed above, written below). I purposely made a reference to Egon Schiele because of his very manifest themes of sex and death...that probably may be obvious but meh. It's another sleepy rendition. I feel there's not too much else I can say about it but I hope you enjoy it. I think about sex a lot and this exhausts me or rather infuriates me. I don't necessarily desire to I want to be present whilst you critique capitalist reform yet the sultry lighting spots a quiver of previous pleasure and groans, grabbing taking me there. To say I'd rather leave is definitely a lie but it's bad timing always bad timing and constantly tempting to do. Fuck. Maybe I'll join a monastery. perhaps that'll force the obsession to cease, or I'll cathartically paint a series of erotic artworks for the rest of my life like Egon Schiele until all my mind retains is a blank canvas of what was once a series of varied strokes. Am I an addict of do I just ask questions? Is it normal to think about sex at least 40% of the day? Is it natural? No way should I feel shame for such but do we have the option to opt out? Can we have a referendum on our lechery? Sure we'd be more productive as an asexual collective; we might form healthier relationships with less possessiveness; the world is already overpopulated and, lets face it, humans fucking suck so we can just let our species die out; let the world revive itself and animals embody our once thought permanent horn assuming they don't toil over it like I'm currently doing. but for now I'll let my toil stay because between you and I I fetishize it. Happy sexing and/or no sexing, depending on what you prefer. Just keep it consensual ;) Keep on steaming and all the best Peace x

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