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Faking Fantasies to Free Us from Fixations Enforced... (or, “I love you.”)

SKILL SEEKERS and FANTASY FINDERS (…into Freedom!) (For the first part of this succession, click here.) (For the second part, on uniformed uniformity, click here.) (For the third part, on porno boredom, click here.) (For the fourth part, on leathered liberation, click here.) (To pierce the composition that ruptured the progression, click here.) Note: This read more..




(For the first part of this succession, click here.)
(For the second part, on uniformed uniformity, click here.)
(For the third part, on porno boredom, click here.)
(For the fourth part, on leathered liberation, click here.)
(To pierce the composition that ruptured the progression, click here.)

Note: This individual entry, which wraps up one roving run, makes more sense after having read the aforelinked offerings.

…and, in mothering you, my inexperienced lightbulb twinkling, I bulbously groom an expression unbridled as it unveils us to a satiated state of whispered “I love you”s. You showed up to a well-known aloneness and, one to the other, we parted limbs to part paths as unyoked equals. Brothers. From idealized patternings of parental love to libidinous, pubescent idolizing of two as entirety, with time and effort – slowly, slowly… – we surely experience the fervent effects of a space that embodies two forms in one frame of reference to connect, through romance, to a radical reality through lock-jawed awe of prospect, committed to processing how after having given you suck I, milked, rest on your breast, affirming our genitals as not degrading our genius as instinct and intellect sideswipe us whilst I humbly backslide into a mindful meeting with your beatific monster and withdrawn nuggets in mouthing our truths. In this city of anonymity, seclusion readily converts to heady sensuality; thus, you cleanse my butthole with tongue, then inquiring fingers, trusting me just as you are as further allied versions of our nurturing natures allay virginal unease in envisioning one another as each other, conjoined in joyous boyishness…


…and from my having been the butt of backwoods bullying to you jokingly yoking this beast – pulling me backwards – by the horns to poke my back end with full, frontal force, we summon the sole source of desire and destruction in playful profoundness in this here and nowness. And from newspaper fillers to having my bubble burst in by other pricks once secretly rubbed to Sears’ catalogued bulges as I battled Bill Schweitzer’s big schwartz in wicked adolescent dreams whetted by forested physiques of piqued peaks shrouded as, shorts forsaken, my savory neighbor lay face down on our dock – I jimmy these jewels out from those size-small briefs to lustfully tussle with your love muscle as we fake that brief belief that we were ever alone in fashioning actions that lead us from every self-denial to a revolutionary reliance on this bottoming up of revelry as we make meaning in coming upon the mystery in mustered mastery…


…and against attempting to assimilate to a depraved culture that deprives us of self-revelation, we reclaim ourselves – there, then – in confided affirmations of our distinctive belonging as, midwives to lives unlived, we receive mannish passion as we give ourselves over to seed spread in deeds that spare us the throttlehold of compliance. Devoted to our innate divinity, we saucy sissies re-create ourselves in synchronistic silliness and sassiness – yes, we who glide on the surface simply to slide, nimbly, into the depths of humanness with this benevolent wang synergy and barefaced yang energy – to conjure up the dainty to consciously merge it with the hardy – back, back to ourselves as rising girlish wunderkinds thunderously coming to a boylike head in a gay-made earthiness that births us to be dominated by delight at the details as we determine only to be in constant communion, casting our affections far…


And you use me when choosing and cherishing for looks and allure,
so I break you to wondrous wakefulness,
bucking supply and demand
as you supply fuck a face-forward, ass-rearward Adam,
coming again and again to a living, breathing apotheosis of your own capacity for emancipation
as I externally validate your intrinsic value –
a flushed flashback –
a howled “AWOOO!” –
is provoked as I poke your throat
to your wolfing down of my wad,
my extraordinary sub-ordinate –
my sub-version of the dominant formula –
in our sub-mission of flubbed fissions of fantasized selves as fixating on inherited fictions
of a heretical heritage of some kingdom of a god
whose raging rod denies our righteous claims of a heaven at hand
with the first man’s five inches within you and your seven choking my invoked Kevin –
we enforce our infallibility foremost in this inpenetrable rapture!


I hasten your awakening in heightened wonder-wielding,
shaping you with my shaft while stating,
“The wider the wound, the fatter the freedom!”
as the former is encountered and the latter normally matters more in accordance to it and,
once fearing a war-torn feminine,
we now model the whore-borne masculine,
openly broken in engendering a generative maleness that makes sense for us
claiming the ones we lay as,
like us,
they marry our inward oppositions
as gender’s edge, here –
on mortality’s margins!


From a lapsed humanity to hands clasped aside me,
your form collapses afore an inner state of surrender within this spirit-filled stillness
as we contra-sexually cock-suck,
counter-culturally addicting ourselves to dicked testaments
with licked testicles tested in fits of spitting blissed bits
of the essence of our existence as this fruit-bearing female finally tempts my man
with my serpentine slit as the garden-gadabout in you
firstly resists
solely to wed the woman in yourself to emerge
from cuckoldedness to consciousness itself
of a world in need of our unique knowledge
as we witness ourselves as sinful then sickly then
as sissyphied resisters of promises of acceptance per the premises of a culture that controls
in a competitive stronghold stemming from a conformity that splits us from
the source of our very selves!


…and active in our pacifism, we paint the particular, broadening brush strokes, specific – holistic – in a silence as tender as it is violent as our communing is strengthened in solitude as you lucidly lengthen yourself in loosening my hazed brazenness, intimate in its ultimateness. Blood rushes, bodies thrust. We specialize in decompartmentalizing ourselves within a stagnant system, synthesizing our holy parts to part with wholly corrupted myths, unifying the ancient with today’s paradise of a pair of guys ejaculating euphonious “GOOD GOD!”s as you – breathlessly – interject, “The essence of All is at my core!” So we seek what is peculiar in the other to find it is rapt within us as the two come to epiphanous oneness…


…and each intricacy – teasing, touch – attests to intimacy, easing us into frustrated effusiveness. I cut you off from present-day distractedness, tackling you in concentration – complete, pagan – and we employ a quick fix to stress what it is that has you hurrying this pause-giving instant with worries begotten from fallacies of what explicitly tickles your fancy. Espousing you as family, I am your fantasy no longer – and the golden boy goads – buoys – you in acts of life gloriously lived as my front flops to a lingering backdrop of blinding sunshine on glass buildings as we two faeries rapidly raise our asses in my aerie to moon one another for gleeful giggles as we wiggle our hardened wands to glorify our hallowed rooms. And we await – await what is to arise in a swelling perception of ourselves that commands magic to trickle into our lives… Rippling out through the newness of a virtuous nudeness that nuances a virility we co-create as we empathize, gazing into one another’s eyes in striving to identify our budding gay selves, no longer sexually stunted and erotically unrealized


…and, Men Alive!, within this time of taking in instant information instead of bettering our inborn alchemical acumen, we fail to accept ourselves as we fall into adopting tall tales of unmanliness and immorality defining our sacred selves since we so happen to be apart from patriarchy’s hetero-appointed superiority. Know that your timelessness enters us, gleamingly, sidewise – extending our attention in seemingly untimely instances with a force so full-on that face to face, heart to heart, I have no choice but to hold you and you and you as I lean in on my love seat toward you who come to me counting on a precise something as opposed to anticipating the stuff that startles. In being enchanted with chance we praise the best of boundless worlds both now and ever more. And we right these hand-me-down insecurities with insight into deserted curiosities, not by conviction – which constricts – but with a concentration that queerly upends and widens. And, wild-eyed, clearly wisest when untamed, you exclaim, “That’s not at all how I thought it would be!” And, conjointly, we leave one another flustered so as to realize our desires for ourselves as dictated fixations prove incomplete in their enactment in that they re-set regrets in a fleeting fulfillment that begs for us to fathom fantasy as a catalyst for amplifying opportunity. A moment of grace transmogrifies into a call to action as we magnify our caring characters in an unrivaled equality.


Ah! Another ruptured streak within the series has been consummated, albeit swiftly.

I’m away for an extended weekend of discovery and divining with like-spirited and minded guys as we infuse the so-called secular with the sacred upstate at Easton Mountain Retreat for “Men in Erotic Service to Men: The Fourth National/International/Intergalactic Convocation of Sacred Intimates.” Please pardon any lack of response on my part until I’m back in Manhattan Sunday evening.

Your homework is to cast a wide net of intention so as to delight in the details instead of try, try, trying to determine them – missing the greater target in the process. If you’d like to dream and scheme in a contained space, I’m here. ☺

(Fall into the “Skill Seekers and Fantasy Finders” series finale here.)

Add a Response 11 thoughts on “Faking Fantasies to Free Us from Fixations Enforced… (or, “I love you.”)

  1. This series is perfection. The final entry sums up the relationship/coupling of 2 humans, bonding in a most basic fashion.
    It captures the fantasy aspect, the way the world disappears with a partner or partners. Hard ons become tools for pleasure, tools for friendship. The pure nakedness of bodies together lifts the veil of the unknown. We’re stripped of preconceived notions & societal norms. Give in to the pure ecstasy that is carnal fulfillment. I’m hard just thinking about it!
    Thanks, again, Adam, for putting into words the jumbled thoughts so many of us harbor!

    • I’m glad this gleefulness could make you hard with its tooling and fooling around with true unification, dear friend! You’re very welcome. Adam

      • I may not write as eloquently as you, Adam, but I write from the heart… And the hard on! It’s time that sex is spoken of matter-of-factly, & you bring it to the forefront. Thank you for all you do, erotically & esoterically.

        Love you! Tony

  2. There are two ways to follow your blog: as a literary endeavor, or as a hot spot that puts dicks and asses gleefully spinning in search for their satisfying antithesis. Sometimes, both parts are explicitly interdependent. In those cases, you not only send us to the closest bathroom to satiate each one of our egregious pieces of hard meat, anxious to vomit or, with plastic phalluses, to offer their palliative effects -whatever the personal preference may be-. But at the same time, we have the opportunity to jerk mentally off in front of the magnetic power of words.
    This week the literary part prevails. It is less sexually epic. And there is no necessity to rush to any bathroom. The jerk off just takes place at a neuronal level, but it is equally pleasurable and less messy.

    • Gilbert – thank you for appreciating the “less messiness” of this wrap-up, albeit disjointed and jerky… it works somehow. It’s almost as though each streak in the series found me oversexed to the point of going under and into my ungendered being to just BE sensual expression – minus the urge to jerk. It’s so meaningful that you follow along week by week… Just wait. 🙂 Adam

  3. What will you call this Cycle of Poems and Narratives, Adam? You’ve helped me to practically relive your life as if it were my own, and, by doing so, brought up so many memories of my gay adolescence and youthful yearnings and follies. So many expectations of others, and therefore so many disappointments and fumbles. But, as I think you are saying, all of it just takes one closer to self-acceptance. Actually, I would call your stance one of radical self-acceptance because you seem to position yourself throughout this cycle as embracing all your glorious youthful successes and excesses, every bit of it, as you bring it all home to this one call to arms: First–love yourself! Thank-you. I will.

    • It will go unnamed, Chris – and untamed! 🙂 And it will continue on in real time… It’s been an exhausting, exhilarating journey – and I’m eager to wrap this series up and look to the future. In reaching back, something has shifted in the present. I’m glad you feel that expansiveness – that love – as well. OX & O again… Adam

  4. Ah, beautiful Adam. You really never fail to make me intrigued with your rich, intense blend of poetic prose and poesy! With this particular entry, especially the gender bending beginning, I found myself fascinated with where you might take us with your thoughts! A mind-expanding read such as this brings out so many destinations in your personal thoughts! Thank you.

  5. This part seemed to tight and cryptic I had to read the first again and realized you rushed everything into a brighter future of possibility from a darker past. A very difficult read, but a truly rewarding one. Thank you for keeping me on the edge of my seat these past few weeks!

    • Thanks, William – it was a bit rushed in the writing – and flustered in the finishing (like shaking off something old to get to something new), but I’m glad you found it rewarding. And you are welcome. Thank you for following along! Adam


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