Pseudocode stage

The same machinations
but you hacked yourself not to comply
Still childishly craving distance through sexualization
you rewired your adult conscience to override

But all this new code doesnt change the power of one good look or a shaking hand or a wry smile

A strong hug makes the system default


Zeros and ones baby
That’s all we flesh machines have got


A Different Kind of Tension

Single thought on blast:
“Oh my GOD I’m so horny.”
Who can I share that with?
It’s not like:
“I need chocolate”
Someone’s always got a stash

I miss having a partner in crime
Someone to tell this most private sensation
Someone who might get a rise
Want to help
Might offer to mix fluids with mine

I have so much energy in this realm
More than most
Even at this age
I have more and more
Sad that it sits inside me, unused
Seems like such a shame

I can blame hormones
I’m a cyclical organism afterall
It might pass in a few hours
But for now its brutal
And I’m at a workplace
Infected with lust
and alone

A place like this


I’ve had a crush on you for a generation
The first time I saw you, you were selling slices
spiky hair
gold chain
tee shirt
tall and hunky
cleft chin
killer grin
cheshire motherfucker
younger than me
summer beach guy
I’d have bet anything
trouble for all of us with an aching to be pleased
But I smiled and took my pizza and said goodnight
Like a good mom does

once I saw you in a local bar
while I drank with another
chasing my lonely with attempts at a partner
I don’t easily forget a face like yours

Now I’m wiser all over
And you’re behind another counter
Gloves in your pocket
Utility knife
Handing out the stickers to the children of mothers and wives
Who bat their eyes unconsciously
and giggle
at the charming bell ringer

You’re skinnier now
hair flattened out
age catching up with you
something hard in your history
taking it’s toll
no gold
jeans on your slender frame
good working man shoes
boring by all accounts
except for that fucking “I can eat it all” smile

Ding ding

And I could swear on my life we’re making contact
In some delusion I have been able to conjure since the first time I felt my sex
You kept turning around
I’m standing in line holding meat and waffles
No style
No fancy bag or hair effect
I feel you
I’m nobody
But you’re a rock star behind a register
I’m a groupie with a basket full of sundries
wanting to catch your stare
And it feels like you’re aware
my eyes are only on you

I don’t know why you’re here
You could be anything or anyone else
What in your life has kept you behind a counter
Kept you from greater adult definitions of greatness
Evidence suggests that smile has got you in a pickle
Maybe more than once
Maybe there are mouths to feed
or maybe being a big fish in a small man pond
made you never want to leave
Maybe some simple life is your success
It should deter me like a plague
But I’m a sucker for a good story

I couldn’t make contact today
I want to
I have longed to for a decade
But mostly I look away
I have kissed you a thousand times
In my mind
That face has placed itself
inches from mine
I’ve taken every picture
From every angle
of that jawline

It’s highly likely
your talents are legendary
So why do you stock shelves
instead of investing big money
I assume you have lost something
Or never knew how to win
Except at making ladies swoon
I understand that compulsion
Which is why I feign at playing shy
Instead of challenging you at the game

But oh how my old soul wants
to be the focus of your eyes
Beautiful paper bag slinger
In my dreams you can ring me up