jamie jenkins: listen

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is there any way out of this briar patch?
is there anything new i can say?
why can’t poetry dance to the beat of my pulse
without ending up some stupid cliché?

now i’m running out of excuses,
and you’ve run away with my soul.
i’m starting to wonder if resistance might be useless-
no, i must be strong, i really think it’s time that i go...


cuz look lends to touch, lends to taste.
cuz regret is the ultimate sin.
and once lips graze the fruit of temptation
conscience doesn’t even enter in.


there’s this problem discerning the difference here
between predator and prey,
cuz i’m at your mercy and your in control,
there aint nothing that i wouldn’t do, nothing i wouldn’t say.

but there’s this fierce feral growling inside of me,
crouched down on the pads of its toes,
with eyes that shine through all the bullshit and denial;
meanwhile i try to forget what i know that it knows...


that look lends to touch, lends to taste.
that regret is the ultimate sin.
that once you’re wet past the ankles there aint no turning back,
you might as well just dive right in.


and distance has a strength all its own
that blurs the line
between have and have not.
but magnets are too stubborn to control,
they always want what they can’t have,
always drawn to what they don’t got.


is there any way out of this briar patch?