Freedom is money. To go anywhere in the world. To do anything you want to. To buy anything you want. Yet we are slaves to money. We are slaves until we have money.
I am a slave; negative, isolated, chained; an ordinary job, getting on the metro at seven in the morning, sick and strained from trying to fit into a mould that is not really my size or shape. Thirsty for love, tired of my lovers. Left out in the cold. Claustrophobic and distorted. Secretive. Following the faith of my own religion. Then, again, the sex industry pulls me, draws me towards it, pulls my chains. I use sex, men, my body, to make money. I am sick, strained. I know, not again, will I ever be free? Demons in my head hustle and fight.
Then I am free. Just for a short while. Flying high on adrenalin. Dirty wings. Flying free, soaring across the sky. I can do anything. I can do anything I want to. My alter ego is all powerful.
I am Superhooker.