Pre-Easter Jitters.
Two nylon ties for my wrists and my house is full of books I do not want to read.
This loneliness creeps upon me and I strangle myself, ankles behind my head, I cannot suck on myself, my mouth falls short.
What do I do in this new virgin way to get laid?
I’ll smoke another cigarette and wait for another man with a babe to show up, another stranger whose touch I haven’t felt.
I hunger for your touch.
Another cigarette.
It is becoming too much for me, to struggle alone abandoned, the grown puppy with no master, and I struggle for a bone or a boner, either way I have empty palms.
Hosanna.
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