Desire is
a pink
poisonous
prison,

a constant collision
with the better angels
that help me make
my decisions
and my urges
that up ends
them.

It is a hole
I keep digging
hoping
Mrs. Robinson
will take advantage
of my played out
innocence.

What a privilege
to be driven by
this day to day
desire that inspire
repugnant
thoughts and
behavior.

I would prefer
to live a life
of discipline
and logic
but passion
prevails,
and passing travels
pushes me on
to one more
mistake.

Attachments
make me weak,
and this biological urge
makes me feel
like a big freaking creep
when I would
like to be
is a nice guy.

I can’t wait
till I’m seventy-five
cause I won’t buy
a single blue pill.