full of moxie and viscosity

Give me a reason to be a woman, Portishead whispers to me today. It makes sense. Give me a reason to love you. Come on, baby, tell me something that will make my skin softer and my breasts curvier and my head a little closer to you and my arms a little more pliable. Touch me with everything. And I cry and I plead, it’s all I want to be. It’s not just the pleasures of the flesh, does anyone understand what I am talking about? There is more. There has to be. I’m so sick of putting my hands on dead flesh. I’m so sick of kissing when kissing is not what I want to be doing. It’s all physical. Have I ever meant it? Have I ever meant it? Have I ever meant it? Have I ever meant it? Yes, of course I meant it. I am incapable of not. But has anyone ever meant it when they touched me? Give me a reason to be a woman. Come on, you can do it.