Memoirs of a child
Posted: November 6th, 2007, 10:17 am
Finally, to forgo sex is to lick the needles of a cactus,
Is to let the wind purposely reshape my hair,
Is to repent my sin of adultery.
Is to anchor a boat on the highest tides,
Is to sit by the ocean and count every star,
Is to rampage through the parking lot just to be close to the door.
Not to have sex is to diminish.
To have sex is to be nestled
Like a pearl within the walls of an oyster.
To have sex is to control
Or to be controlled.
Is to understand when something detaches,
Like a leaf faltering from its branch.
To have sex is to know what I have lost,
Between innocence and the coming of age,
Is to feel pain just to know that I am alive.
To have sex is to find myself chained by barbwire in a labyrinth of feces,
Soiled sheets and beds that are as soft as concrete.
To find myself is to find what will help me connect
Like being hog-tied on a wooden fence and pistol whipped
To have an alternate sanctuary
Is to find comfort in something
Like writing poetry while nestled in a crowded coffee house
To diminish is to execute my mother with compassion,
And comprehend my need to love
Is to forget that I plunged the needle into my vein,
Is to sing off key and admire my talent
To have sex is to smell the burning of flesh
Peeling away the layers of skin
Come lick my wounds.
Is to let the wind purposely reshape my hair,
Is to repent my sin of adultery.
Is to anchor a boat on the highest tides,
Is to sit by the ocean and count every star,
Is to rampage through the parking lot just to be close to the door.
Not to have sex is to diminish.
To have sex is to be nestled
Like a pearl within the walls of an oyster.
To have sex is to control
Or to be controlled.
Is to understand when something detaches,
Like a leaf faltering from its branch.
To have sex is to know what I have lost,
Between innocence and the coming of age,
Is to feel pain just to know that I am alive.
To have sex is to find myself chained by barbwire in a labyrinth of feces,
Soiled sheets and beds that are as soft as concrete.
To find myself is to find what will help me connect
Like being hog-tied on a wooden fence and pistol whipped
To have an alternate sanctuary
Is to find comfort in something
Like writing poetry while nestled in a crowded coffee house
To diminish is to execute my mother with compassion,
And comprehend my need to love
Is to forget that I plunged the needle into my vein,
Is to sing off key and admire my talent
To have sex is to smell the burning of flesh
Peeling away the layers of skin
Come lick my wounds.
