PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

by Jeph Johnson

I guess I'm a different kind of crazy 

Because stuff that makes perfect sense 

Doesn't make any sense or I'm lazy 

And stuff that matters doesn't 

Really matter much anymore. 

The stuff I want for my life

Lives in the deaths I've died before. 

"No" is much more harsh than "yes" 

And belief is a stronger faith than my guess. 

I emerge from a long repose; 

Coming out of hibernation doubting myself 

And what my desires expose; 

Wondering if I can still please. 

But "please" and "thank you" are not always polite. 

Never utter "you look so pretty tonight".

Even if she does.  

Because women are not 

Objects for sex. 

No, not for you, 

But I don't want to object, 

See I want to agree. 

Yes that's what is needed 

And wanted from me. 

Unless of course that's her "thing." 

I want a sex human and pull her strings. 

But women don't tell sex toys they look "pretty tonight."

So to a dildo I feel inferior, and maybe I am.

They don't have feelings or endorphins.