the lost man chronicles
book two: the art of love

what i need, is very little

i try to need very little.

i need to eat, and a place to sit every once in a while.

i need to breath.

i need to be alone on occasion.

i need someone who does not want to own me.

i need someone simple—who likes to laugh and to linger in the charm of my words and my beguiling wiles.

i need someone who smiles a lot too.

i need to write and read voraciously, or so i’ve contrived the necessity, if only to feel as if my mind is not festering—if only to allay this pestering anxiety that jeers and stirs and irks me to work assiduously and become something more than mediocre.

i need to touch and be touched, not so much in a wanton way, but in a manner to say that i care and she dares desire me more than others.

i need to sleep, but often find it grinds against all my other needs.

and finally,
perhaps, alas,
i need love.

the art of living the art of living the beginning the art of love the list

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