deepundergroundpoetry.com
Stolen Gratification
He lives within me,
quietly, he thinks.
But there are levers
and buttons within
his reach. The pilot’s seat
used to be his post.
He’s lost control now,
though he’s left alone.
There are feelings he
can manipulate.
He feels the tingle
of anxiety
in the lower part
of the gut. He learned
to soothe the tension,
use his hand to change
anxious feelings
to desire. Alone,
with no one to share,
he finds his pleasure
by himself. He takes
fading moments from
memory’s crowded shelf.
He uses them all
to make a climax
for himself alone.
quietly, he thinks.
But there are levers
and buttons within
his reach. The pilot’s seat
used to be his post.
He’s lost control now,
though he’s left alone.
There are feelings he
can manipulate.
He feels the tingle
of anxiety
in the lower part
of the gut. He learned
to soothe the tension,
use his hand to change
anxious feelings
to desire. Alone,
with no one to share,
he finds his pleasure
by himself. He takes
fading moments from
memory’s crowded shelf.
He uses them all
to make a climax
for himself alone.
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