down boy

forced celibacy rising up crazy and making me twist, reach for things I don't really want.

don't know why it's so hard--how fear has managed to grow comfortable in my heart, making me enact daily cowardices like a regular old human, like the ones you pass in the street, don't look twice.

just back from the 'Dam, walking the alleys and looking through glass at all that available flesh, wondering if I could even if I wanted to. sex is all up in my head, don't know quite how it got so twisted up in me, just behind my solar plexus hot like shame.

Happy Child, wonder about the things you see, down P-town way, little Tao still holding you hand as you cross the street? Did you name him for me, strangely? For the times we lay on our stomachs on my floor, half-dressed, tracing the characters with our fingers, you calling out the ones you knew--

The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao
The name that can be named is not the eternal name