While passing through these marshes of somewhat unintended living, wading through this ever present identity of secret sexual mystery and that body of fear, some would certainly name this: the shameful expression.
I cannot deny the life-force rising.
Because of my negation, I miss this presence of confidence in my life, this force that is honorable, I miss this conviction and yet here it is rising from the submission, that area so grey that it cannot be defined, impenetrable, stubborn wasteland of orgiastic indulgence.
The life-force is the guardian.
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