From the Precipice of Sexual Freedom

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 they either feel safe, perhaps

               repulsed by what passes for

   comportment in / around my person as sexual idea—many

the asexual-celibate-lesbian re-entry into the (man?) I’m proposed to / be / as

                               often, they say,

                                        “If I was you, I’d be doing whatever I want,” or,

                                        “it’s been a while since I’ve felt ...

   quite like this.” I feel the same “you’re an eater,

i’m a feeder, let’s go” energy on Tuesday after dropping off the pizza

and cupcakes at school, or some responsible location

   not so much the mantle of villainy is useful, if

             exploring your life fully                unrecognizable by the positions offered 

                 & unkind, like

do you like it or not?        such a strange question. therapists have done enough, perhaps

       too much for the self-love class,

                                          what about everyone else? I think, like

the small woman who “just wants somebody to make me come fr fr” & because she’s

    honest, how “somebody” is me, or what I am to her for a moment or, if 

        waiting

everlong, it’s someone else entirely.   I am greeted, holistically by women online who say, “BBC?”

  suddenly, the men were suffering after #metoo,

           or a repurposed sense of being ... someone else, who could not do that

    anymore? permission popping off oversimple as asking.         should not

      is a better description of the problem which accounts, also for the historical

      force of our more powerful class of persons, but whatever—I had a 

           grandfather once.

& cucking is wonderful

                            for the development of one’s observational capacity. I’d rather

              discourse channel through

          actual sex talk. not just your girlfriend admitting she wants

                   to see you suck dick, and does, even when begrudgingly (for her)

          this

is a woman’s member, but so too the expansion of—freedom? no, lol—but

                 requests to do things besides kill spiders, like: “I want to watch you

                              masturbate from this (insert adjective) angle and stay hard

                              till I say so,” not at all

sexual equity as punching playing football ice hockey, but rather

                       as seen through my lover’s eyes and gustatory pleasure in 

                           real time, sure 

          perhaps retrograde—except for the feeling, I am

responsible to the future

                              bullet bags™, whereby others speak so

eloquently,

for themselves                                         & of course, my pending “BBC?”

                       having nothing to do with me.

            Sophie says I think we think similarly about sex,

                                         & from her little island we recall things like

     nails being too long, wavering on the possible discursive transformations

of the dick appointment as a social form, another offers

                            just one fuck a month outside the husband &

                                                                     booked already this evening

     considers the next thirty days of salivating,

                                  for those of us wanting to “get chosen” over

       choosing rot I am NOT that guy,

                                                  but sort of am; it’s mood based, what helps

     is the supportive lover who, in your rudimentary bottom training

                              reminds you that even Chip doesn’t quite like it, &

verifying this seems beside the point, lazy return

                                                        to this or that categorical imperative

     in which my confusion about the insipid “fear of vulnerability” is some 

        quiet

          partition allowed: dear remunerative entity my feelings are ...

               obvious, yes, have you heard of this thing called

                                                  insecurity?

               you gotta get metatextual with it, like

     the refractory period is for the subjunctive! & that pineapple juice

                                   shit does not work: oysters & dark chocolate, 

                                        ashwagandha & viagra

headaches over the pooled fluids of our shared lover,

                                                                                     let’s think about it.

                      she’s all like “I get enough validation for my mind, so just take

my ass & fuck it, please”

 Joseph Earl Thomas