All this lockstep, clockwork, digitally rigid machination does not suit us. We are animals, and even that is too precise. We are a chemical accident, a maelstrom of chaotic coincidence of physics that has culminated in a complicated cooperation of particles we have come to describe as biology, life. Somehow our particular makeup has arranged itself ephemerally into a construct that has allowed thought, metaphysics, imagination, dreams to exist in the artificial space we think of us our mind, our soul. But all our absolutes are illusions. Years get longer and shorter with every terrestrial tremor. One day the sun will wink out, but we'll be long gone by then, and nothing will remember that we once believed men should only love women, days lasted 24 hours (what the fuck is an hour?), this thin crust of hard material surfing on the molten core of our planet was a firmament. In the meantime, these bodies and this entirely inexplicable new thing that is our human mind worries itself over what might be forever true, as if anything is. I am glad for a lack of perspective that leads me to experience this tiny blip of what the universe considers real duration as a long life. I want to experience as much of this artifice carved out of physical reality with you as I can. Let's not worry about something as temporary and abstract as tomorrow, yesterday, forever, should, ought, proper. Burn the seconds away with me and let's enjoy whatever the hell this is. What is a kiss in the scope of everything? Who cares? In the scope of this human moment, it is bliss and pleasure, concepts the atoms couldn't recreate in all the aeons they have to try.
