I am a hop, skip, and a jump away
from the truth that I live, by necessity,
considering what I am, day by day.
I’m free, but subject to an injury
that presents itself as His blessing,
getting off, sooner, from the computer,
forced to face, and integrate, my King.
My libido assumes the life I’d prefer,
making Him all the more essential.
Is a life with a libido, minus access,
problematic? Don’t I do my best to dull
an edge that, sadly, I cannot express?
But that’s not really true, for me, is it,
since I find, in my lines, every outlet?
So if this edge, at times, does not acquit,
is that something, then, that I’d regret,
if I knew, for a time, little or nothing
of what I’d miss, without Him, in full, in
my life? The energy, now, that would sting,
if, that is, it weren’t for Him, trumps my sin,
and defines me in a positive light.
So if it weren’t for this libido, I’d
live, a little, in duress, and what I might
become would be suppressed; now, a side
of me, that, for a time, lived in limbo—
ignorant of His impossible egress,
is forced to engage every man’s show—
a philosophy, a truth, that we’d repress,
if it weren’t for people like me. So I
advance—I adapt to this change, a process
that proves inevitable, for, when I cry
out, thinking of my former self, an address
determined by a hijacked, tragic mind,
borne into a different time, I answer
to Him, the soul, in me, that He designed
thinking, ever, of the life we defer,
when the universe began. Nevertheless,
I was complete, then, following His plan,
and I’m complete, now, as I must confess,
if I am, across time, my true love’s man,
which do tell, I believe I am. If I climb
the walls in agony, landing on the floor,
with my feet behind my head, paying time
out of mind at my expense, open the door,
and let me in. I have come a long way
since I was forced out, and I settle, yet,
into my routine. Tell me that you’ll stay
a while, as I settle, for Him, my debt.