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v u l v a l i c i o u s Michigan Cuntlove Michigan fed my cunt in happy, heartening, reddened bits of flesh and romance and heat and air. It sent my heart up and down and sideways, crashed it onto rocky grrls with hurtful yet inviting lips, and sailed it gently home, to me, before I realized what had happened. And walking to my tent, cursing under my breath and sending pitiful tears down to the dust, I re-membered that I am worth more than that. I like how my cunt and my heart beat together, feed each other, affirm one another's shared existance. I went to the kissing workshop in hopes of finding someone whose lips and tongue and teeth were compatible with mine. I searched the crowd for the grrl I was meant to kiss, even for an hour. I didn't find her, and so I kissed others as a sweet substitute, thinking of the time when kisses will flow between a lover and I like easy passion rivers. Soul kiss is a strange phrase, and one I cannot understand. I thought yesterday of the best kisses I've had, of the fact that they came from someone so wholly disconnected from me and of the truth that these kisses, really, weren't that good. Were they? Have I dulled them in my memory to make their absence easier? Sometimes I think I can do that--too well, perhaps?--and other times I think I am merely inflating my powers. But I digress. I left festival full-filled in some ways and half empty in others. I did leave wanting more affection; desiring a teary-eyed goodbye or sweet kiss on the hand, or perhaps merely a hand in mine on the last naked walk to my car, a light squeezing of fingers through a rolled down window. Yes. Those things are what I felt I lacked. But beauty, strength, friendship, and power came to me hard and sweet all week long. I have looked over my pictures and smiled, Real-izing these virtues present in my Self then and now. And last night, when I saw some friends, they told me how good I looked, how healthy, and I knew it was residual fest gynergy making magic inside me, manifesting itself in my appearance as well. Praise be to this cunt energy that helps keep me sane and whole, whether kisses are present or not. |