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| Glass House | |
| By Katanga | ||||||||||
| 20 October 2009 | ||||||||||
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Glass House And if your eyes are windows to your soul, as someone said, a wiser man than me, then why not open them and love me whole, not bit-part loyal and sexually free? I struggle to maintain my youthful lust. Against all odds I manage an erection. But is it worth it, knowing that we must collapse one day, obey God's natural selection? Darwin's theories leave me old and cold. I need to hold you now, before we're done, and gentle, let our dying dreams unfold, unwrap, until we've only half begun to work out why we could not mock this farce of eyes. But yours were made of frosted glass.
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