Tuesday, June 9, 2009

father and son

so this is about a father and son and therefore it is not about sex but instead about competition and generational change and the horn-clashing foot stomping spring display. So therefore it is about sex. Penis like an elephant, like a zebra. The whole animal protrusion looking ridiculous in the light of day. A Hemingway-esque pissing on territory. A climbing up on her back mid-velt. A quick penetration more for display than for pleasure.

I am more experienced and therefore I am better. I am more virile, more orgasms in any one day therefore I win the king of the jungle.

It is about father's and sons and therefore it is inextricably about sex. Eating and fucking the human animal reveals itself. All of it about sex. You can hide it behind science or philosophy, volcanoes or gods, but still it erupts a thousand times a day. This territorial fucking. This beating of chests. And yes, I am impressed. And yes, I am interested. A female of the species, ever-attuned to the scent of fathers and their sons.

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