Not Thinking About It

It’s only prudent to note the sexual confusion swimming about my brain.  It’s not that I don’t know which team to play for.  My problem stems from not knowing which pursuit to play.  I wanna fuck all the beautiful women out there and then my head and heart intercede.

I’m worrying about hurting myself.  I’m worrying about hurting someone else.  I’m trying to be high minded righteous and all I get is nowhere further down a road that makes any sense at all.  There’s a ghost in my past who haunts me and I dare not think of her for more than some minutes per day.  But then when I’m musing ‘bout others, she’s suddenly in the room with me, clouding the objects of my desires.

This thing clearly hasn’t run its course and of course I clearly need to keep running.  Moving makes me feel better cuz standing still, hoping, waiting, and watching is no way to live.  So I live my life moving, constantly moving, and the only thing that makes me feel better is not thinking about any of it at all.

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