latex locomotive

and this birth control movement has given birth to a train of thought that found love stalled on the tracks and plowed right through it. And this latex locomotive has forever maimed love, limiting it to a sensation only of the mind. and in the same way that my emotions self-destruct in this containment chamber, love has imploded in its unnatural confinement. and spermicide-drenched rubber raincoats have mutated physical love into mutual masturbation. and now not only does sex not require love, but it does not require trust. fuck rufies, alcohol's the date rape drug, effective on men and women alike. and love is ideally an act of innocence: a naieve show of vulnerability. but love is dead and innocence too, buried together forever in a prophylactic tomb.