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The Teenage Lust Comes In

Brief fantasies betray a forlorn hope and so does the body. Break it down into several different pieces. A dormancy that springs forth into new life if only for a short while knowing that you're not the lustful teenager you once were and she could be old enough to be your daughter. All legal but the feelings betray a certain unease.

You made your bed twisting the sheets out of every proportion. You sleep 'til all hours where a brief fantasy begets the teenage lust and the quarrels that you leave behind. Practices make dreams believe. But all you can do is deceive yourself for that brief moment to tantalise another life, another careful manipulation of what if, if only and so on.

Try to tell yourself age is nothing but a number but the feeling lingers of guilt and shame, especially in the landscape we've provided for ourselves. But it becomes a weapon - a double edged sword for you to fall on. Empty promises become a toxic component - and then there is your increasing impediments. You want a quick fix but she's not a mechanic and doubtless she wouldn't want to be your nurse.

And then there is the fading secrecies of age and intolerance. A political landscape that's hellish to get by. All these broken manners from splintered hopes and dreams. Still fall for the accents like a schoolboy once more. Walking through these places leaves your body in bruises. Jarred knees and the feeling that your body has been kicked in sufficently to know when to give it a rest.

But the teenage lust comes in when you're a fully grown adult. But the teenage lust comes in when you really should know better. And I'd love you in a heartbeat but I'd feel the shame when I see the screenshot on your phone. But your smile would give me hope. Even if I felt like a dope.

Just one more torture for the road

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