Uncontrollable Desires Poem by James McLain

I gazed upon the familiar dirt road, partially submerged in the narrow ditch.
Every inch of its hardened surface was damp to the touch, causing my lips to tremble with uncertainty.

The darkness that surrounded me felt imbued with mysterious enchantment, reminiscent of soft white magnolias and crushed velvet.
Within the confines of my bedroom at night, a silence hung in the air, as if it resided within the very essence of my home.

I had learned to cease my futile resistance, for all that remained was a chilling anticipation, saturated with cold moisture.

No one seemed to believe that I had no control over the forces that resided within me.
My gothic neighbor, however, provided an explanation: during these prolonged encounters, it was best to refrain from taking any action.

Each rose, with its firm grip, filled my entire being, as if it had made a conscious decision.
In the depths of my inner mind, I warned myself not to find pleasure in this experience, likening it to the pressure that opens soft nuts.

It felt as though I were perpetually falling, searching for the perfect description.
Like a mighty wave retreating to the shore too soon, its impact was only felt on the inside of my thigh and lower leg, where it converged.

Time after time, in every direction imaginable, it pushed aside all illumination, focusing solely on the scorching heat deep within me.
Life is too short, and night, with its clandestine nature, becomes a song I keep secretly hidden within myself.

The night sky, adorned with brilliantly burning stars, witnessed the moon elevated high above, isolated from the rest.
Each night, I engaged in a wrestle with these forces, akin to slender tall trees releasing their grip on green verdant leaves.
As sleep overcame me, wide awake, I could not speak of that.