out in the jowls of 'the real world
we will never speak of sex but in its mutated commingled and modified forms.
we never seem to talk about illness except in its commingled modified and mutated forms.
i see these constrictions in bored broad daylight and the necessity of breaking each is imperative and so on.
the lack of speaking truth,
these gags and binds, need be broken,
lest i might not love you.