30 Minutes of Intense Pleasure

and there's only so much information you can disclose.
to tell you that I want that feeling of floating; that I want that feeling of finishing a beautiful entry. the kind I go back and read aloud just to hear my voice inflection.

How do I say anymore than I already have?

If a person read every single entry they would know me. They would know how I yearn to let myself be vulnerable to someone who will/would catch my limp body when/should I collapse.

semantics amazes me. like clean, white panties on a day when you feel so beautiful you don't want to put on pants, because it will just ruin the contrast with your skin. the lighting. the pure joy it brings me to be alone in my room. the pure joy in knowing that someday...someone will enjoy me descending the staircase in my clean, white panties. that someday it will be pure, when he enjoys making them, not so clean...because I will be his konstantine.

perhaps I'm to be an artist. I feel unexpressed, like no matter how passionate I try to sound, I'm holding SOMETHING back...but I suffer from expressive constipation. I wish to have that explosive entry that blows me away. not this half-ass orgasmic feeling. i want it in it's entirety. I want the world to come when they read my thoughts organized...just...right.