Poetry Slam!

I let the hunger approach without resistance.

I let it peel back the paralyzed layers of me dying to escape,

dying to run to the intoxicating simplicity of him.

I let it pull me, yet gravity cannot win this match.

The match against the mind and how eager it is.

The tingle I possess thinking of what might be,

What could be achieved if I did not force all of my senses to stand ridged in their own tracks, emotionally distressed as it knows what is right, and how it could all be.