From Art of Mind II: All-In. Available Now on Amazon.com.
We can measure this moment. Put it in our lab and set aside times for mating
— But strap on gloves to avoid reproducing.
We can reheat these molecules and rekindle our body temperatures —
Downing it in swarded weed fields that we aver will rise and grow
at the first sign of moisture. Perhaps it will.
But more likely than not, we will not be able to cultivate the growth that is firmly grounded
In This Moment.
I know society and customs won’t let us act now,
So when I become too forward you must back down.
But way, way, planted deep down:
It could never be hotter
Than if it happened in this spot.
In This Moment.
Or even just on this night.
Initial Mystery, curiosity, and spontaneous unbridled lust cannot reoccur,
It can only recycle —
And if you choose not to discard something in demand —
How can I call you trash?
Baby, if I didn’t respect you, I wouldn’t have asked you.
Or Want You.
If I wouldn’t respect you, then I wouldn’t respect myself.
You must respect that which mainsprings a positive response;
I feel a discharge coming tonight, and it’s not your dignity.
I don’t think we can bottle these hormones.
We need to hold on to it now.
Act on it now.
I want to let it flow — outside of the world’s pre-programmed lab,
Still — you insist on using your stopper.
You can’t record this feeling with digital data or entered numbers —
If we’re lucky we can find a similar spark when we return to the lab,
but the flame we had will extinguish by an emergency procedure that you were told to carry out
by unnamed sources with white coats and beakers of wet dreams on their mantels.
If only we could have acted on impulse, instead of following procedure —
We would’ve burned this mother down.
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