But aren’t they all
And so I sat there and looked up at the orange light that shone. I know what goes on in the world, just how much of it needs to be in my own backyard? Is it possible that I will never understand and for that matter did I ever really want to understand? I pride myself on not knowing, not realizing, not wanting to realize that everyone around me is thoroughly unsatisfied with their current states of mind and therefore constantly enhance them. I am not dumb. I know what happens at these places. I know that what is supposedly mine, my beloved, what belongs to me; for several hours or even a night does not belong to me. I know that for some period of time the thought of who is being touched and by whom, the inhibitions of having a girlfriend slowly fade; that I, at some point in the evening, stop existing. The question is should one forget and turn the other cheek in hopes that this is all some sort of exaggeration? Should I for a brief moment feel insecure, unsecure, for the sake of not knowing, not wanting to know, never knowing? And dare I even toy with the notion that I join the artists and company on their quest to open their minds and feel with great intensity their bodies? No. It is because of this answer that my greatest fears of losing are brought forth. “It would be a great night” he said.
But aren’t they all?
© Copyright 2016 Prior Reed. All rights reserved.
Poem / Poetry
Essay / True Confessions
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