The Body Hunger
Kofi Fosu Forson
New York is a city of damage. It wears on the skin like wire. Only the strong survive. Ego begets subversion in the relationships between men and women. In postmodernist terms, women at will force themselves onto men.
Language between the genders is no longer a clogged artery. Much can be said for the media’s influence. That language as a virgin we seduce has to be interpreted literally and figuratively. The mind serves up lunacy versus lucidity, lust versus chastity.
A trip backwards to birth or do we begin at death finding our way towards eternity? Life lived is henceforth experienced a second at a time. A lot can happen in a second. The banality of sitting opposite a woman in tears with pretty feet on a New York subway car! Nonchalance becomes every passenger. To then shout along “You have perfect feet” removes any form of innocence.
Much the blame in an executive business woman sitting across from a young punk, an experienced gentleman from a teenaged girl! Movies formulated in the mind are meant as murder or pornography. Do we ever intercede? Philosophy is my heroin, my coitus cunt. Life and death in a New York City second brings one closer to eternity.
Death is not eternity. Death is dismissible. Death exists only if life exists.
The crush of life! It began as darkness. Visibility in the light must be accompanied by torment. A New York summer’s day, hot and humid and the curse of emotional and physical vehemence! A day in the life of a New Yorker knows much anger, frustration, condensation and found trust in a cup of coffee.
Seamlessly, we are offered a page in another book. Confess to unavoidable sins or push the libido into a limitless bank. Crawl if we must but then we remain subservient.
Kofi Fosu Forson
New York is a city of damage. It wears on the skin like wire. Only the strong survive. Ego begets subversion in the relationships between men and women. In postmodernist terms, women at will force themselves onto men.
Language between the genders is no longer a clogged artery. Much can be said for the media’s influence. That language as a virgin we seduce has to be interpreted literally and figuratively. The mind serves up lunacy versus lucidity, lust versus chastity.
A trip backwards to birth or do we begin at death finding our way towards eternity? Life lived is henceforth experienced a second at a time. A lot can happen in a second. The banality of sitting opposite a woman in tears with pretty feet on a New York subway car! Nonchalance becomes every passenger. To then shout along “You have perfect feet” removes any form of innocence.
Much the blame in an executive business woman sitting across from a young punk, an experienced gentleman from a teenaged girl! Movies formulated in the mind are meant as murder or pornography. Do we ever intercede? Philosophy is my heroin, my coitus cunt. Life and death in a New York City second brings one closer to eternity.
Death is not eternity. Death is dismissible. Death exists only if life exists.
The crush of life! It began as darkness. Visibility in the light must be accompanied by torment. A New York summer’s day, hot and humid and the curse of emotional and physical vehemence! A day in the life of a New Yorker knows much anger, frustration, condensation and found trust in a cup of coffee.
Seamlessly, we are offered a page in another book. Confess to unavoidable sins or push the libido into a limitless bank. Crawl if we must but then we remain subservient.
What is our attainable goal? I read a novel a word at a time, paint a picture stroke by stroke. To measure a life by seconds would lead most people towards insanity. That is the measure of brilliance, embracing insanity to the point of luminescence.
Darkness/Visibility….Chastity/Light.
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