Monday, August 20, 2001

Taboo. An understated pub illuminated by cool blue lights, peppered with incandescent spotlights against sleek velvet black. If there was a secret Eden of lost innocence, this would be it. Taking my first step into this ominously cavernous lair, I felt the soft tendrils of seduction on the back of my neck. It is like Hieronymus Bosch�s Garden of earthly delights, with half nude human beings frolicking on plush designer couches and flagellation conducted most viciously with wicked animal hide. But it was an ecosystem that eliminated the female gender through natural selection, and where muscle against muscle was not an affair of fists and brawls. It was a sight altogether erotic, culminated by a hundred such naked, perspiring bodies into an apical high.
And this nymph I had become, trespassing into a sacred coven, dancing adroitly through this earthly orgy of male primates. I marveled at their beauty, their strength that was reflected off every contour of their sculpted temples. Their movements are in every way as languid and deft as my own. And I realized with a start, that some of these were the very creatures that would give up every prowess of a man to be like me, to have in their bodies the fine construct of a woman. Oh I cannot describe with the limitation of language how it broke my heart, but I felt it was incumbent upon myself to say it. For if I could behold their souls like I could their magnificent forms, I would only see weeping and broken ethereal wraiths.
But I was an intruder in their midst. I felt as if I was a needle that has ventured amongst a cluster of delicate bubbles and burst through their pink defenses, and in a chain of explosions they protested silently. I flinched in a futile attempt to ward off this wreath of miasma building around that threatened to asphyxiate me. I was stung by the apathy in their eyes and the clamor of the trance music booming from the speakers, relentlessly pulsating beats meant to induce artificial euphoria. My body screamed out in retaliation, my legs leading me to where I came without warning. Yet my heart lingered at every one of them whom I passed, touching their souls briefly searching desperately for warmth. But all I felt was the cold blue of the cerulean lights that lit their nocturnal domicile. Thoughts raced in my head� These are people who believe in what I personally hold true: That love transcends beyond gender. But the ethics of our society inevitably shuts them out and confined their secrets to their hearts, the souls of these vulnerable beings are drifting further away from us and from themselves. They are lost and eager for acceptance and brutal in their love for they hate to be hurt most. They are known as my broken angels, impaired from flight forever and doomed to dwell amongst those unlike themselves.
Rest well tonight, my dark winged angels. The journey is dreary when you travel on foot.

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