Boundaries and prisons. Consent and mandates. Equity and asymmetry. Consistency and erratic jolts. Relationships and ownership. Love and lust. Mapping the margins to rest in the center. Removing the fat to enjoy the meat. Freedom across bodies, bodies loved freely, free bodies loving. Rules, regulations, respectability and marks of decorum brand flesh, chain love and chattel minds…freely. Transbodily prisons where hearts beat against each other yearning for that which cannot be stated because true desire is inadmissible in the court of sex negativity, contrived relationships, parched kisses and normative notions of a heart unleashed.
Where then do the practitioners of free love go–if even the body is a war-zone refusing the communion of truths, healings and affections uninhibited? Imaginative re-constructions and the building of safe(r) loving spaces offer temporary reprieve but what good is a space in the heart of a prison? The desire to create, produce and sustain that which does yet exist is noble, but how many rejections, demolitions and ill-equipped architects can one endure? I do not know the answer, but for me, liberation exists in the continual striving, and occasional grasping, of freedom. I have no doubt that we were not meant to live or love one elating touch by touch–but we were also not meant to die during droughts of realness.