day 15

i am afraid to stroke now
three days left
it rises now with its own mind
i ignore it
it whispers...pssst...psssst
i ignore it
the ache is an accepted reality
what am i to do

i think of the helplessness
the lack of choice
the matter that has a governess outside myself
the focal point being the suffering itself
the 'taking on' of it all
the succumbing to task
bare to the cold chill of next
and the empty hours of 'no'
i of course lust
but it becomes about power
the transference of animal want to the etching of a piano roll
playing the notes of her composition
being played, keys baren of my fingers
as i watch
just as others might
my dissonance rarely resolving
empty of will
time summing up my chromatic scale
even my whimpers swallowed by black keys
i dangle from the faint pull of strings