A childhood nursery fantasy
has become an obsession of late.
Everyday I become someone else that I love
so that I can have some hope of witnessing
what was once deemed impossible.
Love & trust make this elixir attainable
but I’m driven completely by sex: a walking hardon.
Always a sexual creature…
Always willing and able
to gladly explore any kink
that struck my fancy…
Those demons were expunged upon arrival.
All but this impossibly complicated
riddle of a contradiction.
This place is beyond anywhere
I’ve ever willingly been.
This unexplored erotic nightmare of flesh is:
urgent, vital, joyous at finally receiving my attention.
This dream cocaine has made me into a liar,
an enthusiastic victim,
a nearly celibate slut
who yearns for desolation…
a chance at reconnection with
that hardly humiliated farm boy in
those locker room communal showers.
As a child I held such unfulfilled desires
but put them to bed (where I have now joined them).
By assuring him that everything is
and always will be okay,
I have traveled full circle –
returning through time to bless his lust,
circumvent shame,
encourage exploration,
and guiding him to disregard their influence;
to tame the monsters that would otherwise haunt him
until the day that he once again completed this paradox puzzle.
Written by Jason Wright
November 7, 2017