I use it before it uses me. 

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. 

“Fly.” 

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