Well,this is day two,will this journal survive,will i have the balls to clink,sit down and not freeze or simply drift away as time does so very ofton in my days walking this planet.My return trip from Singapore has affected me more than another trip back home and i am thankfull for that.There is something about seeing one's birth place derelict ready for the bulldozers to stand there amongst it all and feel no ghosts working through the underpants seemed strange almost spiritual.Thinking on that birth place,that hospital...blank only white walls of silent time which probably spoke yet at that moment i did not hear.
Yet lying in my hotel room i heard the voice..why..and for some reason i could not answer,only wonder why i did not pull out my cock and spray sperm across the floor.How many times have i done that,so many hotel rooms, old tumbled down cottages in england dilapidated cotton mills as if i was trying to get back,yet where though.To stand there naked with a hard cock and feel the flow shoot out and the vibrant lunge with the voice as it splashed on the splinted floor,even in Australia at death...i sprayed my cock..then it felt like a final goodbye..yet in Singapore not even a stirring.