pleasure game



i derive this

peculiar pleasure

from being



it keeps me

in a holding pattern

locked in place

like a water pump


it’s always there

sometimes a need

to bring it up

up to the surface


the surface where

things are sticky

and parts hurt

and i get lost


in the pleasure

of difficulty

keeping it there

holding it here


blame is a bandaid

ripping it off

is part of the game

and no less pleasurable


in my deepest


there is a

point to this


and yet the 


is such a

part of the game



like a joke,

goes with

my last name


swinging from

the chandelier

emotions and

such all in a knot


and yet

the emptiness

pure & utter



tucked & stowed

so far & so deep

the din of addiction

i’m lost again