Is It Stress?

Is it stress, or loss, despair and survival we must discuss. Stress is just the symptom of a universe intent to destroy the individual before it births new life. It sends the dogs after us, after the holocaust, in the tattered ruins of our city. There is this despair and expectation of destruction, but somewhere there is still also simple sky blue, flowers among railroad ties, true love between sexual partners. Is it sex, or love, companionship and reliableness we must expect. Sex, nothing but laying my head at your , can interest me sometimes. Your legs lead to a pleasure that seems infinite and smells perfect. So there is this tenderness, a connection like a suction to the biological that is ephemeral as snow on the ground, one elk in aspen, death and nothing less.