you know how it grabs you
in places that feel so good,
in a way which trumps tomorrow.

It snatches and strangles our pasts away
and forges forbidden futures,
while injecting needles of pure pleasure
into any artery receptive to its dose.

The more you get the more you want
as you climb the hill to survival
to the job which pays
the bills and fills your dinner plate.

When not gasping for pleasure,
the door swings open
on your far side of town
where the bores reside

in boxes stacked upon splintered shelves
their parents have created,
as your independent spirit
branches out to seek

life’s rare erotic pleasures
found inside the scrotum
and fallopian tubes
of hidden channels of love

buried in blissful tunnels
until the cell phone rings
and snaps you both back into the reality
which you crave to leave

with a giant step back into the
timeless lustful tunnel of pleasure.