PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Oh God

I’ve fucked and sucked so much cock today

Cum stained paper towels wrapped in torn foreskin

Back arched

They beg, nay, scream with wonderful strangeness of papier-mâché smiles

For the next hit

But I’ve got nothing left and motorcycle engine roars

Dark gray smoke cough of dark gray nothing

I sit and ponder the next earthquake where

Head to toe, covered in envy and reflection

She kindly says no

And perfection’s sandy side somehow returns

There is a fire that still burns

But Oh My Lord

Did we not learn the lessons of the higher kind

More than enough and less than love

Where hate begets a child of

Her knowledge how dark these rooms can get

And we pretend, not yet, not yet

But fire rages on and on

The woman scorns but hell still furies

And between the lines

Another quiet moment lies

Where ghosts still meet, where children run

Where like the last one he still cums

With grin and grit and words of paragraphs of what’s to come

Though she well knows – he’s all alone

It never stops nor ends nor quits

But does deceive and nods its head and says ok

We’re gonna all be dead someday

Still Boston cold, still Fenway park with snow and nothing but endless dark

Their drenched feet melt the pavement concrete

He knows, she knows

The fire that cannot let go

Oh God, why is this so