Wednesday, September 28, 2005


I think I've coined an interesting new word. Intmistasis is the process of cancerous growth that occurs immediately when one enters into an intimate relationship with a lover, specifically sexual. I have suffered from it since I acquired it at 16 years of life. As I attempted my first intimate encounter, not the multiple rapes at the hands of step siblings but a real puppy love, I realized even then that my psyche was permeated with the malignant tumors that rapidly grow as a result of male-female coupling. It instantly crippled and disfigured me. I was unable to maintain my own identity and was unfunctional in the traditional modes of coitus. I mutated into a leprous self-loathing which distorted my ability to choose wisely. I only was able to choose hateful, mutually self-loathing partners who also suffered from this malady. The experience of negotiating a relationship in the midst of this nightmare was say the least. All attempts at loving were thwarted and distorted by the Intimistasis stages, one through 100. By level 98 (or 98% disfunctional), I experienced nauseation and bile, unable to keep anything down. With each act of pleasure initiated by me, my partner was subsequently affected in the same modality. Vomitous lesions appeared on our genitals, drowning out the feremonal zest which propels the species to reproduce itself. All acts of reaching out where thwarted and I continue to live with this lethal condition, unable to love another and to pleasure them.

But, I can love another in "my way", and pleasure another in "my way". I love another by demanding they accept full control to my every desire and emotional need. by subjugating themselves to my primacy, I experience rapturous completion and cathexis. With each act of inner degradation of my partners life energy, I am made whole and strong. "They complete me" in their act of sacrifice of their own needs. Repression of themselves is the inner key to happiness I seek. Sexually, complete enslavement to my every repugnant desire and shameful debasement allows for a release from the inner torment of the cancerous nightmare of having to deal with another person. By removing the other person's essentiality, I experience a rebirth and reparenting of the genitalized micro-self, long ago made miniscule by the sub-stratified vaginality of each partner I absorb. My porous and flacid masculinity, terminal and extinct.

There is no cure, nor would one want there to be. I have only an anhedonic memory of communion with another, incapable of emerging as a fulfilling vessel for female life on this planet, sub-sexual and sub-aura-pleasurebrality. There is no hope for a mama's boy, castrated warf dying of intimistasis but the resignation from all attempts at effort. One must surrender, and in that surrender, die trying.


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