Ahoy! Draft 5: UBA

So here it is--for now at least. I simply must go to CVS and get something for these sniffles. I'll replace this post later if I come up with anything significant changes for this draft. Otherwise, onward to draft 6!

I. The Urge
This strange, animal energy,
—This deep, hard need to fuck—
This enthousiasmos so
Possessive & primal,
Heaves me, heedless & heady,
Overwhelms & seizes me.
I cannot hold, cannot see,
And cannot—would not—stop it.

My eyes, my lips, my body,
Hands and dick and legs and ass,
These things that crave
Lust and long and hunger for
The sureness of another
In my arms and ‘gainst my chest.
Sinew flexed and ready now--
To seize and seize and seize.

Too long stalled in hesitance,
I now come crashing headlong
Into you between bedsheets,
No longer my own in the night:
Seized as much as seizing you.
Body alongside body,
Point-to-point and parallel
Mouth-to-mouth and bone-to-bone.

I may not know whence it comes,
Nor whither it may soon go,
But you are here now before me
And its object, its treasure;
I want you now
—And I will have you.


II. The Burden
But it’s hard to say for sure, sometimes,
When we get so damn horny,
When/and everything gets all mixed up.
Why must we think?
It’s not what I want.
Who is this person in my arms?
What am I even doing here?
Why do I always do this?
This ought to be so wonderful,
So easy.
Why must we fight to make sex something beautiful?
Why must fun take/be so much effort?

Is it the fault of this modern age,
Or just my own misgivings?
That even basest passions
Are questioned, named, and judged,
--one night stands and love making
Strings attached & otherwise.
Why can’t things be just as they are
--Why can’t sex just be sex
(Or even less, now & then)?
Why must something so simple
Become so complicated.
But why am I worrying?
Why must we think?
Why must we think?

But how much hotter our passions burn
When fueled with thoughts of love.
How much more eager and willful we become
When we call it love--or think we can--
When we feel wanted, when we feel grateful,
When we want to believe, in Love and Truth,
In goods and bads and etiquette.

But no less am I a man or mammal
Nor any more can I keep that urge in check,
Than can I always claim such altruisms as love,
Such verities of the soul;
And it worries me.
For I do not know if I love you
—Or just want you—
Nor do I know if I always will.


III. The Aftermath
But, here now, let's savor this much, this time,
This little we can surely give eachother;
This fleeting, ecstatic moment for now.
Nevermind the wherefores & whereafters,
O, let them come later!
                           We are here now;
Let's be immediate and beautiful
With one another while we still can—try,
Ere those shudders and exhalation come
And take with them this magical thinking,
This sweet moment, the memory of it;
And leave with us in its passing
Those cold and lonely facts & futures
As we lie entangled and sweaty and
Sticky—and possibly second guessing.


(And poison actions with thought?)