desire. I

What a thing it is to lay yourself open to someone. To know and accept that in those moments, you are merely a flower ready to have your petals plucked from your pistil.

Taken by T. Matlock

Sometimes you want them taken from you. They are given and seized with love. Sometimes you want them taken because it hurts. You may not know any better. You may not want to know any better.

Taken by me

These things do not have to be merely of the body and can often rarely be so singular. We choose these moments, too. Laying yourself open (exposed) to others by forces of motivation other than (physical) touch.

But then there is the physical manipulations we choose. The act of allowing another to choose the movements of your own body. A photographer manipulating a pose. A lover manipulating your arms, legs, head. The almost divorce from yourself becoming, literally, putty in someone else's hands. We choose these hands (good hands or bad hands) for our loves, for our obsessions, for the act of surrender itself.

I have felt this intensity of vulnerability for years. Giving and shielding as I see fit. Yet, at times feeling completely confused by my decisions of why this? Why now?

Taken by me

And though I was trying to get to a point here, I can only conclude with who fucking knows! People are funny funny creatures. I am a funny funny creature. What I do in this lifetime will probably never truly be understood to me till my death, and that is if I am lucky to have evolved to such a clarity of self.

My desires are leading me to strange places, unorthodox decisions. But I am kind of excited in all honesty.

Taken by T. Matlock and myself

Can't I be, if anything?