Self-Confession

You with your super scientific mind:
to you I am safe, somewhat secure,
though you discretely sell your seduction
remaining sanely calm on the surface.
You slowly squeeze out my sensations,                                                5
satisfied at my struggles, you often smile.
I seem seized, segmented and salient . . .
unable to escape the snare;
I try to scratch at the emotional snag
only to find I am shredding myself and creating deep scars.                  10
I feel as if you are stealing my sanity,
creating a scene of subtle sophistication
sending strong signals that seem to seal my fate.

Secretly I feel a spark
and am scared at the intensity of my sensations.                                   15
To solicit a sordid liaison such as this
sickens me – though somehow feels sensual.
It was a sign that the silence was broken when you spoke,
sabotaging my self control,
sending me swimming through space and time searching for sanctuary      20
only to find myself craving the sight of your true self . . .
wishing for your sensitive touch,
knowing if you would stroke my self esteem
naturally my shield would shatter.
I would succumb to these searing sensations,                                         25
feeling the splendor of hot steam, to spasm,
at least for a single second.

I am suffering from want:
this is exactly what you set out to accomplish.
A stolen syllable sent in my direction,                                                      30
a sardonic glance soon to follow,
such sadistic games!
I would love to spend my time shrouded in a sheet;
counting your supple toes,
stopping your sarcasm with my lips,                                                          35
silencing my sexual hunger,
satiating the place in me that was starving for you.

I tell you this and you show me your teeth.
You said, so sorry to have started such a strategy,
and seeing the success of your secret goal within reach                                  40
you slithered snake-like to my side.
With savage style you did undress my sanctity,
exposing my sparkling nakedness, to sip of the fine juices.
I felt as if I were on stilts,
high above the stagnant morays
and as vaporous as the smudged rings of Saturn.
Slowly stripping me of my encumbrances,
spawning the smell of sweet sweat,
building the storm to a maximum stage
and creating a stampede, you continue to suckle,                                             50
bringing forth symbolic sunshine
that warmed my yearning soil,
fertilizing the sparse area with your special supply.
I feel as if I am swimming in suicidal pleasure:  servile.
I am unable to stifle the scream –                                                                   55
I feel like a fabulous young flower
born from a single tiny shoot, sprouting toward the sun,
a swollen small bud until bursting into satiny bloom.
Surges of delight saturate my soul,
what a spinning feeling of enveloping elation,                                                   60
there exists no equal substitute for such joy.

My slowing staccato heartbeat makes me starkly aware
of this sacrilegious scandal we have just performed.
The last lingerances of bliss scatter
leaving me to feel stale and exposed.                                                             65
Rational replaces simple thoughts of heroic hedonism
as a schism forms between scolding regret
and scalding fulfillment.
You challenge me to be content
while sedately imprisoning my secreted stability.                                                 70
Was it that I began to believe
on that Sunday September-like day,
or did I realize, or perhaps recall,
that my immovable fortress walls:
the ones constructed to protect the hidden pinpoint,                                             75
had just been rendered invisible.
     – 7/91