It

It is what it is….but when it actually knows what it is, embraces what it is, and thrives among other its that is what they is, it is such a beautiful damn wondrous orb of “it”ness that it cannot be denied its it beauty even by the its that is not what they is. Oh…and for the its that is what they is who get to find, see, and identify another it that is what it is, what a damned vivacious invigorating “it”ness exchange it becomes. So much I would say, that as odd and counterintuitive as it may seem, the its of their own “it”ness begin to dive and play in the “it”ness of one another with almost a compulsive giddiness, becoming drunk so damn quickly on so much titillating resounding it…and the fucking beauty of it is that no it is lost or detracted from or bastardized in any way, for it that knows what it is, only desires the same of other its….with more or less, the visceral play, giddiness, and titillation lose their “it”ness…lose their soul…lose their meaning and the primary grace of existence implodes upon itself for all its and non-its everywhere. It is what it is.

Cribb”it”      2014

2 thoughts on “It

    • Yes Love, fond of souls…being so rare these days…maybe they have always been such rare things…thinking you had one and it was only a disease for the longest time …until you stumble upon some other odd misfit who actually appears to be infected by that same damn pathogen. And then rightly or wrongly, mistakenly or not, you do want to suck and suck and suck until you are drunk with total bliss for a moment….. or an excuse to die like everyone else has already done. I fucking like you and your disease. Just say’in.

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