April 2007


The Tenderest of Loins

So there I was, only walking
Down the street by my lonesome,
Nearly minding my business,
Taking my time and letting my
Mind wander, until my mind
Wandered to the thought of
Massages, and how nice
They are, and there I was, at a
Parlor for massages, chock
Full of ladies, trotted out and
Lined up for my choosing pleasure,
This one’s awful pretty, and that
One’s also quite nice, and golly gee,
Will you look at that one’s little tits,
Her tiny frame, and the surprisingly
Large size of her soft, smooth hands.

Do you think this will get infected?

You were in up to your forearm, when we
Realized you hadn’t removed your watch, and
With the shock of this awareness, I pulled
Forward, you pulled back, and with an audible
Pop! (like a champagne cork, or Jerry mouse
Escaping from Tom cat, or your arm being
Jerked out of my asshole), I was vacant, vacated,
Empty, except for that watch of yours,
Which we’re probably going to have to
Get out of me, one of these days.

It’ll be okay.

I was angry, so I grabbed a brick
(and if you asked me what a brick
Was doing, just lying around, I couldn’t
Even begin to tell you), because when you
Insulted my virility after I couldn’t
Get it up (and if you tell anyone
About it, I swear to GOD) I went a little crazy,
And screamed at you (of course I would),
But then you laughed at me, my impotence,
My worthless anger, and I guess that’s why
I’m writing you this note, and planning on
Sneaking out your fire escape.

Not really ever enough

We played baseball, tossing the ball
Back and forth, back and forth,
Slap of leather on leather, then
Slap of leather on other leather,
It turned me on when your
Glove moved out of the way of the ball,
By just a little bit, and that
White leather orb kind of just
Smashed into your face, didn’t it?
C’mere, I want to fuck your swollen
And bloodied lips.

The science of touching

It was years before we met, it happened,
Not paying attention to two of the three
Chainsaws I juggled, and you can imagine
The rest, I was depressed for so long, watching
Television, not playing video games, not
Any more, no, changing channels with my nose,
I don’t bite my fingernails any more, either …
Heh, that’s sad … then you came along,
Washed me with a sponge, dried me with
The softest of towels, and after I got over
My disgust and self-loathing, let my passion
Take over, and allowed me to toe you,
For a moment, I imagined I still had hands.

Another Free Pass

After making sure my hair
Is finely coiffed, nails painted
And then scratched off, roughed up,
For that devil-may-care punk look,
An old, tight t-shirt is mandatory,
Showing off my titties, floss
Tied tight around my nipples
So you’ll notice them, and the
Obligatory short, pleated skirt
With military boots, I’m finally
Ready to see a show, saunter and
Slink to the back stage entrance and
Drop my mini-purse laden with
Condoms and toys, so you’ll see
The tattoo on my lower back that reads,
“Musician’s Entrance”, and an arrow
Pointing to the plug in my asshole.

Many things are like other things

Your mouth is like a well: I drink
The moisture there, remember the
First time, prepubescent and awkward
(the more things change), my boner
Felt huge, pressed against the heavy
Weight denim of my jeans, the pumping
Spurts I filled my underwear with,
They are testament to the raw,
Emotional power that lies
In physical affection, be it
With you, an aunt, or a wayward
Puppy, licking my face, I shoot
A load in my shorts every time.

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