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To outline for your my body the truths that plague me, dismantle and liberate me. Paths have come forth and ended abruptly, yet it all stays the same... An empire of newness bedazzle and slay... your normal, your expectations, your assumed progressiveness... it all crumbles in the most beautiful of ways, when you see with your eyes closed.

An awareness, look around at the nesting doll life which your body defines. Standing silently in the shell of labels and constraints. The thin epidermis keeping you safe, the onion skin mold of definition of discontent and delusion. Pardon me as I examine the surface of you. Gaze at the reflection of all taht we are as a being. For I am the cosmic design, devoid of a mold, the poster child of an existence based on a modified blueprint. The YOU: enter the glass house, fragile yet conforting, nonconformist, the pyramid that centuries from now will awe, strike and puzzle; because I, the shell, teh space, the moment and the real -- I am that we are.

Being apart of this collection forced me to transform my thoughts and morph my mind into a realm of a feeling process that I never knew existed.

To feel pain through obvious loss and understand confusion leaves a sweet taste of desire on my tongue and a string on my heart that left me longing for yet another glimpse into a depth that I have never known or never knew I longed for. To question the mere reality of what a man is and what is a woman and how erotic that dichotomy is.