libido: all of the instinctual energies and desires that are derived from the id
id: the part of the psyche that is the source of unconscious and instinctive impulses that seek satisfaction in accordance with the pleasure principle.
Without implying any credence given to Freud, this LibidoWare is offered in praise of the pleasure principle as a survival drive.
I don't depend on something outside myself for meaning and purpose -- but sometimes meaning and purpose disappear into one of the great gray fogs my brain self-generates, and faith is putting one foot in front of each other when I can't even feel the road. Simple pleasures of the body keep me going. The scent of new-mown grass. The taste of a Japanese apple. Skimming my fingers along an iron rail just after spring rain. Water sluicing over my skin in a long warm shower. Singing anything.
Spooned up along your back at night all the static in my skin goes quiet. My thoughts may still run, but run slower. They may still sink, but don't sink as deep. When I am lost in my thoughts, you curve against me and stroke my skin. It is only a distant pleasure at first, and I wiggle deeper into the pocket of your body in reflex. My skin becomes warmer, the warmth generated deep within me, and finally I turn to run my palms up and down your arms, your legs, your belly, to cup and kiss you, to take pleasure again in your existence. And in mine.