As I string the words together, they feel hollow. Even to my own ears. I find myself writing and saving to draft, half completed, unable to bring myself to finish yet another post about sex.
Do I still like sex? Hell yes. Do I still crave it? Like my lungs crave air. But there is an air of cynicism, a dark edge in my writing that feels unsexy to me. My fingers seem to want to give that dark edge a voice. To give the mic to someone other than the Pussy for a while.
Could it be I am moving into a state of mind that is something other than carnal?
If so, do I share it here?
Has the time come for me to move in a new direction?