I castrated it for my own good, shooting down the spigot to
keep it from overflowing, this need to spread my seed always at the heart of
it, to press into dark places where I know I don’t belong.
I castrate it to keep it from wandering, know if I don’t, I won’t
control where it goes, when I know if goes where it wants, where I want it to
go, too.
I feel the ache of it from my nose to my toes, and this
desire to penetrate, to lay down and have my will, if I do not cut it off. You can’t
deny something so much a part of you, deny what you want and will always want,
so, you do what needs to be done to keep it in the coral where it belongs, to
keep it from plunging into someone else’s coral, to keep it contained.
I cut it off even though it is the last thing I really want
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