the rigor of being

so we're chasing the essence of sex.

for a reality reset

in this world, 

where doubles standards apply,

where the human behavior with others

is the worth of its own scrutiny. 

but the essential motives of being

are not yet obvious or claimed,

as we are so busy 

chasing the immediacies of interest,

like for mind occupancy 

as a showering of confetti above all else.

sadly, I have advanced screen skills,

even though I may be face to face.

I am provocatively skeptical, 

as a way of furthering my existence.

if I was at all artistic,

it was as a childhood trauma,

that I have apparently outgrown.

I've come to see myself

as others see me,

and I don't know anymore

where the projection ends.

if there is a deliverance,

it will have to be as an awakening.

the logic I currently use,

can't save me.

I don't even have a clue

as how to be self-aloof.

experience overrides me.

listlessness silently laughs in my face.

I am in need of momentous needlessness,

some frame break of a natural occurrence,

some unwitting grounding force

that defies defining me,

that is genuinely me, 

before I get to self-consciously check.

to be a fertility of being,

that has no capacity for a noun status,

for to sense that I am,

before the seduction of purpose

postures and then reigns . . .