I Let Go

For a moment the guiding principals of production

I thrive and manage and read and reread all of the materials

I am for a moment without a rudder I am unbound and plied

My tears are hot and hot

--

I feel my pulls
those urges
And oh oh oh I can be unabashedly
Cocky

It is the massive amount of testosterone I was subject to envitro  g ft f f 

X
G f
F
G

G ft
 
   
 
 
G

I'd Kick Rocks, but Math

I want to pause

for three days

-

to wake with the sun

and warm skin, sweet with sweat

the glancing 

graze of loves hand across

the edge of slumber

****

Instead I am pent up exhaustion and borderline madness. I feel the creeping edge of the limit of my exertion, hoping that I have a fuck left to give. Part of it may be that I haven't had a half-competent lover in a year. I haven't really dated beyond physical informality in two.

-

I could be sick when I consider the chapters of text to work through this evening: environmental science which may be due in an hour, I must check; a few chapters of Ladyman; write a draft of my thesis; read the entire quarter's worth of art history articles; prepare my bibliography for artech and biomedia.

***

I want to pause

three more minutes

-

inhale sharply and imagine my

waist secured, nearly encircled

in a firm ten fingered grasp

**

I am chilled, my skin pulling close under my tights demands a portion of my attention. I know I would be more comfortable if I would simply stand, retrieve the items I came here for, and return to my task at hand.

-

Until a moment can be stolen from time, wrestled from the narrow pass between untouched lips, the same that pulls breath from chest, firm press of knee to knee, I come undone

*