lust

Sexting Tips With Henry Miller

Artwork by  Nicol Sepúlveda

Artwork by Nicol Sepúlveda

“Everybody says sex is obscene. The only true obscenity is war.” says Henry Miller in the Tropic of Cancer. If there is passion deep inside your soul, why wouldn’t you express it? We are granted tongue to speak and lick each other’s fears like cats pampering each other. The erotic talk involves all our senses and that part of us that is unlimited: imagination. We spend so much time complaining about our heartaches and sometimes we forget the mere enjoyment of life: passion. Henry Miller’s writing is a continuous bouncing between deep meditation about life and shameless erotica. His letters to Anais Nin are the best example of literate passion I know. I am a poet and I like everything deep, the deep passionate wordplay that can make the mind and body connect to a profound level. So, if your passion for expressing your erotic thoughts was awaken, here are some sexting tips from Henry Miller’s books:

“Legs closed. Frailty. Sweet, treacherous acquiescence. Bird docility. You became a woman with me. I was almost terrified by it. You are not just thirty years old, you are a thousand years old.
Here I am back and still smouldering with passion, like wine smoking. Not a passion any longer for flesh, but a complete hunger for you, a devouring hunger.”

Artwork by Walter Pfeiffer

Artwork by Walter Pfeiffer

“You make me tremendously happy to hold me undivided, to let me be the artist, as it were, and yet not forgo the man, the animal, the hungry, insatiable lover. No woman has ever granted me all the privileges I need, and you, why you sing out so blithely, so boldly, with a laugh even, yes, you invite me to go ahead, be myself, venture anything. I adore you for that. That is where you are truly regal, a woman extraordinary. What a woman you are! I laugh to myself now when I think of you. I have no fear of your femaleness.”

Artwork by Sarah Sitkin

Artwork by Sarah Sitkin

“I want to undress you, vulgarize you a bit.”

Not sexy enough for you and your loved one? Maybe Anais Nin’s erotica can take your in that swift mood for pillow talk instead…

 

 

“She rises up out of a sea of faces and embraces me, embraces me passionately, a thousand eyes, noses, fingers, legs, bottles, windows, purses, saucers all glaring at us an we in each other’s arm oblivious. I sit down beside her and she talks, a flood of talk. Wild consumptive notes of hysteria, perversion, leprosy. I hear not a word because she is beautiful and I love her and now I am happy and willing to die.”

“I too love everything that flows: rivers, sewers, lava, semen, blood, bile, words, sentences.”

“I want to get more familiar with you. I love you. I loved you when you came and sat on the bed, all that second afternoon was like warm mist, and I hear again the way you say my name, with that queer accent of yours. You arouse in me such a mixture of feelings, I don’t know how to approach you. Only come to me, get closer and closer to me. It will be beautiful, I promise you.”

Artwork by Anna Taut

Artwork by Anna Taut

“You come and you make me sick with desire, with desire to posses you, to have you around me always, talking to me naturally, moving about as if you were a part of me.”

“Here I am, take me, or stab me to death. Stab the heart, stab the brains, stab the lungs, the kidneys, the viscera, the eyes, the ears. If only one organ be left alive you are doomed, doomed to be mine, forever, in this world and the next and all the worlds to come. I’m a desperado of love, a scalper, a slayer. I’m insatiable. I eat hair, dirty wax, dry blood clots, anything and everything you call yours.”

“A good meal, a good talk, a good fuck, what better way to pass the day?”

“To love! To surrender absolutely, to prostrate oneself before the divine image, to die a thousand imaginary deaths, to annihilate every trace of self, to find the whole universe embodied and enshrined in the living image of another! Adolescent, we say. Rot! This is the germ of the future life, the seed which we hide away, which we bury deep within us, which we smother and stifle and do our utmost to destroy as we advance from one experience to another and flutter and flounder and lose our way.”

Read all our sexting manuals here

Laura Livia Grigore is a poet, painter and psychology enthusiast, with a background in space engineering. She likes to experiment with various mediums and types of writing. Her artwork is orientated on emotions, reflecting her opinion that most of the answers we need can be found inside ourselves, although the hardest thing to do is to be sincere with oneself. You can purchase her book here

Read more from this author