All attention is on my being at attention, at my age
Not at full attention except all my nerves are there
Fully attentive, the goal is so innate, so primal
So desperate as desperate gets to achieve a single
Goal, here alone, all me beating my heart quickens
My hand left to its own devices needs nothing at
All as it strokes as the hands on the clock tick tick
They all quicken n sync in rhythm i harmony gone
Back to being wild wanting winning at the stroke
Of the dawning of life jettisoned out into the
Wild wholly water world voracious for its next
Meal and the clock and three hands both click
And stroke on up up and away till eyes shutter
And that sweet balm of sleep cones on and cum
And sweat calm down and dry matted skin on.
Life goes on
Life and lives and those possibilities of it want OUT!
Spout! Spout! oUT!
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