Paralyxzations of the worn spandex, still early Pizza and beer on a comfy couch And the crunchy old leaves That decorate the walls of my house Glimpses of nature in an urban world. I think a bit, I feel my quads As they burn with lactic acid pain That never leaves an athlete in season. The greasy cheeseboard and brown dried leaves Reflect the feelings of sweat and drained Emotions and motivations, sleep is near. The night is young, but sleep is near. Parties call to me with voices loud Over my tired and disabled carcass The incessant fight between body and mind begins
Why should I venture out into the world? What is fun if it can come Only through grinding my *** in someone’s crotch? Shall I not find the comfort in my bed, The warmth of blankets that smell like me, or else The shared cup of tea with roommates and friends Not the bedroom tussle with muscled men I am whole within myself. Climbing trees or dreaming of oceans Running up hills and conquering waters All are my fun; my life is full remembering The past adventures with inebriation and indiscretions It is now time for soul and body to heal.
Men in the bars had their inhuman strength To down the pitchers and pints of beer Loud mouth ******* who seem so compelling Move as kings among the tittering ****** Magnificent in their swarthy confidence Until their blood alcohol level reaches a new high Creating a beast without inhibitions Till no doesn’t mean no, but an invitation to come Shall my voice fail? Or shall it come to be The voice of a victim? And shall my quads Have the strength to run, or the foresight to Begin in a place much friendlier than now A part of the brain and a part of the heart And next is the knowledge of things to come Not the dulled senses of an exhausted drunk.
I say, “But Saturday is my only night When morning practice is not imminent” Parties are the basis for college fun; hence my wish Together with people and dancing and drink Shall I finally reach the effervescent image. Although sleep is upon my weary bones, The path of fun is clearly wrought with dangers, and love. The triumph of conquest blows the ringing horns Until my sparkled dress comes down from the hanger And uggs are rejected for heels of blue I cause boys to pile orders for beer and ***** tonics On their max-out cards. I taste the metallic twang Of future mistakes and regrets.