A Pulse

Sometimes I google

My worst fears and sometimes I

Search for porn of my

Traumas and sometimes I think

All of my fetishes are based on

Triggering something. Either a

Pulse in my pants or a

Pulse in my forehead I am

Seemingly addicted to

Driving myself mad. I know

Even if I had a bigger dick I would be

Unsatisfied, I know

If I’d been born a man I would wonder

What being a woman was like.

I know I am enough and I know

I am yearning for something

I can’t get enough of. The same way

Everyone is, the same way

Hoarding money is understandable

Hoarding love, hoarding pain, hoarding poems

Is understandable.

Alas I cannot understand why I would continue to

Google some of the things I do–

It must be out of a desire for certainty, a

Constant lust for truth. A pulse

In my veins to tell me I’m alive, a

Pulse in my heart to make me want

To thrive, and a more menacing pulse

In my left eye, where the pressure

Bludgeons me from the inside.


Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Subscribe to the Blog

Subscribe Here!

Join 515 other subscribers

Archives

Blog Posts

Follow me on Twitter

%d bloggers like this: