Ever since I was of age enough to desire truly
I have not been able to bring myself through words and time
To the meeting place where the daydream of seduction sparks
Without rerouting unforewarned to a safer address
Or screaming soonest what a timely speech later reveal
The years have been many and the occasions almost countless
The approach to trying to approach always breaks the same
The intensity of the desire burns from hope to shame
A belief in the new, the will to the unknown, take root
Then yanked by the des-pair that cannot self and love together
I have asked myself why, rethought the cold story of cause
Also told myself off, let myself off, sworn on, sworn off
The role I play in the stale theatre of my head holds
The wreckage just ahead awaits with a sinister smile
Rehearsed to death: the chasm in my expedition with desire.
If the meaning of desire is a want that needs whole
Putting the end of the self at the start of something else
Where the meeting point would time a rebirth in a full person
The self half of something before, and after if unmet,
How does a thing grow twice its size if not enough already?
Maybe it is time to reflect on a new truth of feeling
The thirst of wanting, the task of willing, build on a castle
It is ruined, empty, out of time but still stands in spite
Repeating like an unfinished death, an unbanished ghost
Suspended in desire for life-or-death absolution.
Now that I am of age enough to expect myself truly
I have not been able to encounter through words and time
The solemn place where the nightmare of desire returns
Without looking at myself wanting more than what I see
Or trying to call the desired more than ruined “me”.
The meeting, to work, therefore, must be two halves kept so
No transcendental transactions of flesh, mind or spirit
No hot exorcisms or holy revivifications
But a mutual seduction set on shared revelations:
That halves cannot fulfil desire and Love is acceptance.