Suddenly the feeling overwhelms me,
Like hot lead racing through my thighs, but cooling so quickly, they are weighed down with 24 years of trepidation.
As I look around the room, I prepare myself to see the ghosts of my past, hovering just slightly above me,
My arms bend under invisible weights, curling in pursuit of The Form of Attainment.
I use it before it uses me.
And suddenly such a lust comes, where there was Nothing.
I do not touch myself, for I feel as though I already am,
as if the most excruciatingly slow orgasm is breaking (over) me.
When I reach my delicious climax, I cannot help be see the illuminated arrow above my head pointing toward my window.
“Go, my love,” it whispers.