Enough

Another mindless sordid scene
until it all drains away from me,
and no one will come close
because I don’t want them to,
because I can’t feel them near.

Until I have time
to refill the feel of everyday life,
and that takes longer,
comes back slower,
and that’s enough.

And I’m bland and sexless,
washed rags clean,
those sterile orgiastics
got it all out of me.

Pleasure bleach from the inside clean,
and the failure becomes me:
“I’m sorry.”
Limp love, got the empty eunuch feel,
and it’s time to stop,
it’s clear.

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