flesh

the only thing that made sense to me is when she said our flesh doesnt work together. you said your flesh and her flesh repulsed each other like a negative charge to that of a positive. and i understood because my flesh has never mended well with the flesh of another, but i dont care. my flesh to his, his flesh to mine, meant nothing and means nothing. i want his mind to work with my mind, i want his thoughts to merge with mine, i want his love to fit my love, but it doesnt and it wont. flesh, that physical baggage that i am all at once disgusted by and proud of, tags along with me as does yours. they cant merge, that cant be one and would i even want that? would i sell my body to conform to the flesh, to the open arms, to the embrace, of a human being that cannot even appreciate my mind's inner workings. he doesnt know my instrinsic networkings. he doesnt like my non-linear arguments. he doesnt listen to my fears, to my doubts, to my rants, to my rage, but laughs and soothes them with vague, disposable, cliche words of i love you. fuck it all. the conversation is dry. the minds are of different worlds. and yes, the flesh comes together, and yes the flesh to his flesh feels secure, feels like love, feels like happiness. but my flesh to his is false because my mind to his, the wiring of our thoughts, is cut.