Latest Update: crucible (2024-12-17)
She is seen, and the dam breaks,
torn at the mere suggestion of her.
The hint of a thigh, a belly, a breast,
and it floods, the pressure
tearing at my skin, an animal
clawing out, a magnet yearning for
its opposite pole. The momentum
of history, the thrust of a thousand
ancestors knocking the inside of my skull,
begging continuation, to follow
the ecstatic itch that drives man forward,
the pulsing thorn in the ribs,
the through line from amoeba to us.
But this is beyond blind craving,
beyond mere possession. It wants
to devour, consume, assimilate
like a black hole swallowing a sun
until what is outside is inside forever.
There is beauty that tears at the soul to see it,
that demands worship. This impotent beast
would devour beauty. It was born yelping
in the haze of adolescence, growing
stronger with age, stronger than even
the body can stand. The catalyst
of the worst crimes of men with weak minds
who lingered too long near that horizon.
Chained by conscience but always hungry,
always testing the moral perimeter
for weakness. It knows not personhood,
it being more ancient than any person.
It deconstructs, evaluates, reconstructs
in a second dozens of people a day, its prey.
It knows neither law nor norm nor ethic,
only aching desire, again and again.
It seeks, vigilant, finding its target
everywhere, always one in a crowd:
the girl uniquely perfect. Imagination
is too weak to have conjured
this particular configuration, this electric
dopamine glance igniting depthless longing.
A smile, a laugh, and I'm there with her
in a cascade of glittering images:
the banter, the touch, the entangling
of lips and limbs and lives until
we're flooded with each other,
and she deserves it all,
endless pleasure for effortless beauty.
I know all thrill dies with habit.
I know beauty is not goodness.
I know an inward beauty exists
unknown to the beast. I know
all beauty fades. Of course, of course.
But if it blooms for a moment
- arbitrary, unchosen, fragile -
it earns eternal life.