Departed trail & Bitter trials.

Eng. 24 2016

The argument starts with my inspiration to write

about the red velvet sweets that have tantalising legs,

whom work on pch;

but my girlfriend, doesn’t want me to write about sex.

I take a wise repression

to my devil emotions,

that now change  its directions,

for my girlfriend.

I write absurdly to be obscenely  

about beating and ringing rivers that advertise goliath naples;   

but my intelligent, insightful, in my heart creature,

tells me, “Don’t write about sex!”

An angel guilts my pen, so I must amend her bird chest organ

with a presented jar of kissable puppies,

a bag of hershey’s halloween candy,

And the cute tone of sarcasm.

“I was writing about raptors

How they work in walking circles,

how John Jones hunters wish

For no teeth,

And i’m sorry If I made it about sex.”

We yelled for an hour.

At home, alone,  and writing a new poem

about my left hand.

And so I ask, “Do you think it’s about sex?”