Analysis again

Why I work to gain the attention of your eye I do not know,
the lack of interest you convey, is gasoline fume
to my lit cigarette.

Memories of Daddy and swing and intense discomfort,
The squirm of trying too much and knowing, always knowing,
If I,
When I,
As I,

Perpetual motion toy, triggered by a fingertip touch,

and when she wanted me so much I turned away…. disgusted by the need, that I see now, on my own face.

Leave me alone, don’t touch me now, I’m just not that into you….

Why is, why is it, why is it so important…..
that I be the one to beg, to plead, to jump.

When ignored, I obsess… look at me, talk to me, kiss me, love me, stay with me….

When freely given, I walk away…heedless and bored, distasteful….

Jack booted stomps, gaining speed and running toward loss…
Again…

I think myself:
Worth- less
Faith- less
Hope-less

A self portrait of aging skin, eyes strained, sagging flesh…
Would I want to touch me?
Would I yearn to fuck me?
Would I burn for needy fingers to brush at sex with forced desire?

Your orgasm tastes like victory in my mouth,
sweet, salty copper;
pennies coated with sugar and left to dry by the sea…

I can prove now that you need me, that you want me, that you love me.
My victory flows down my chin and stickily covers my neck.

And I, will rub you in…
victorious lotion,
love potion.
A day gained,… a hope lost…
what difference?... If I win…