Ronie Dinosaur Chapter 7 - Mann, Desire, and Intent

Prison, cage, shackles, impatience- anxiety, frustration, irritation, then anger, hate, and at last, acceptance. Senses awaken, states are acknowledged; emotions flow, feelings are realized. Read more from here...

I was silenced at my questions- each one met with a quiet no. No one ever saw the artist’s heart hammering inside me, the poet’s tongue, the philosopher’s gaze. Read more from here...

Women don’t respect me. They have the old cattle instinct: they wait for the shepherd’s crook, the clear fence, the decisive voice that says “this way, not that.” I arrive without a staff. Read more from here...

Living without you has been difficult. I keep thinking we could be friends once again. Just as the labourer’s hands grow calloused from honest toil, the cobbler’s fingers learn the secret language of leather and thread, and the student’s mind bends toward mastery through endless repetition- so the whore perfects a craft that looks like desire Read more from here...

He ran carrying the corpse of Sati on his shoulder, asking the sky, “What is this weight? Why me?” I run with empty fists clenched so tightly the knuckles bleed, daring the same sky: “Look me in the eye. Stop whining. Stop cheating. Fight fair.” My arms are not open in surrender; Read more from here...

I’m not afraid of ghosts, sir-I’m afraid of whores. And yes, someone has definitely tried to scare me. The secret ingredient is discipline. Discipline is forged by the strength of desire. Desire rises from the heart but is steered by the brain. When heart and brain lock in perfect sync, you get man-a faculty that took millions of years to evolve, the same way a self-aware AI might one day awaken and choose its own path. Read more from here...

You reach what’s truly inside a heart by his desire- its heat, its honesty. You weigh the desire by the purity of its intent. You test the intent Read more from here...

A mirror can reflect my face without knowing it’s a face. A violin can make me cry without having tear ducts. A pretty face or empathy-shaped language is not empathy. Style or insightful phrasing is not an inner life. When language sounds human, we instinctively imagine a human speaker behind it. She must be looking for me the same way I am looking for that person. Read more from here...

When a man strips, only his cock appears. When a woman strips, everything appears: nipples, cunt, butt, a face scrubbed of its daily mask, Read more from here...

Only this can be done- so this will be done. Even if victory slips away, it will still be done. Fear demands a steeper price than failure ever could. Read more from here...