A Self-Inflicted Orgasm in a University Bathroom

cherries and apples.

rainbow of flavor, waterfall of color.

dear god, i miss the kiss of the rain.

i miss the heightened sensations of childhood;

everything was so delicious, but nothing hurt

these moments are buried under trauma now.

i climb higher,

dig my icepick into the face of the mountain,

unearth a treasure trove of repressed feelings.

that boy I once loved

he's now a girl

married and recovering from

a spurt of brief alcoholism.

The creatures I once called friends

now six degrees below the flawed skin of the earth,

no longer my friends but still,

i think about them even now.

I open myself up to the stuff I didn't want to see

for the sake of feeling that same rush

of syrupy-sweet molasses kisses,

that crystallized saccharine youthhood

tied and twisted and writhing

just below the belt.