pleasure
resists
me

i want to hate you but i can't let myself go that far

you seem familiar somehow

leaning on me
learning from each other
let's see how far we can reach
how long the stream

what to do? what to mean?

no, i am not talking about your penis
though that would be fun
i mean something different
what men have accused women of being is more projection than reality

for instance: men are more emotional than women.
it's impossible to engage with a male in conversation and not be immediately immersed in his needs, desires, wishes, intents.
but you can speak with a woman for a long time without coming near to her needs.

i resist pleasure because it seems enmeshed and i cannot tell how selfish it is - or isn't, how destructive - or not... and i wonder about the shape of the lives around me, about the shape of my life... i attempt to achieve perspective and it floats away each time, no, no, it says to me, get inside it, get inside it, getinsideit.