talkin' dirty, or

Well,
dirty talk always tends
to transgress. And most people,

holding themselves out as
decent, more or less, tend to go

straight for the nasty, transgress

that propriety line, that false
dichotomy, which they've set up and strengthen, partly
in order to misuse now, and then.

In contradiction lies
release, from the public self

to some wilder beast you give in to
what you try to hide, which is

hot. And that is exactly why. Otherwise,
we wouldn't bother. Me though,

I'm a feminist, so
-called, or effeminist some
may say, that's fine. Okay,
so naturally what I tend to transgress
is not propriety,
so much as a politicized conception
of what we all these days hold forth
to strive for as correct, but

secretly, maybe

cries out for correction? Yeah,
maybe. Though to be sure: just
between us two, only
for educational purposes, and entertainment
value. Because that's

not really
what we really are,
when we speak these sweet
everythings askew and ajar

- in a case like this, which we press
'til the instinct screams

give it all away, and be free!
Be free, for a series of deep
-drawn breaths, clothed in sheens
of another's sweat and then tapering
back to the greater and lesser things
that we know are right, and proper

for us. With a shh
and wink. Naturally, once
the obligatory geek-reference
pon-farr has seized us
and been spent,

we revert

to a by-then more
or less semblance

of how we feel our best self ought
to be, or acting like

at least.

But, you know, right there
right in the middle of things, right

there

that's just
what we want to test,
and transgress against - because we can,

and as a weird
kind of trust
and a confidence,

yes!
to drop

what we meant
to be, and get down

like a living thing,

sworn to secrecy