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Dec 2017
in my quickstep i dodge pessimistic paranoia,
to make a B-line with a convincing smile
not to show you my insecurities,
since three nights dog tired

i search your listlessness, those detoured eyes,
trampoline thoughts of yours
elsewhere
which i innocently ask you where
they are, you say -in explaining-
  
    (as if to some enforcement officer or
     probationary agent in an interrogation room,
     a single naked bulb dangling in shadows,
     save for teeth and baritone accusations)

-in explaining-
you are weary .. "fati~gay" you say -having
worked out
(your *****' leisure given away,
in my head i say...
to someone else yesterday, last night...)
today-

i fix my carnivorous gravitation
on carnage with our usual
routine of euro-**** or latins
    ripped from torrents of unknown webs
that our downtown pal gifts us
regularly, having now
figured out our tastes and styles
of types of boys
or men we salivate to... he figured it
somehow

i force myself to shoot,
unload my bullets with a glass *****
inside - as i grip the handle like a ride -
my vices escape with the voices inflated,
questions to understand you
muffled by choice, not getting any
closer to...

in the release, no answers,
only music of muscles and erections
emitted from the Magnavox's shrills...
my hole seems to still need
to be filled

where once i was frequented
by the real-deal holy-meal
of your beautiful member; both of us
silencing our ordeals
with slumber now
and surgery with sugary
well-wishes

kisses don't do it for me any longer

since your energy's spent
elsewhere

(i don't seek it out
-why, or who, or even
when -did you have the time to spend?
in between the calls checking in)

it's an empty ******
when
the one you love has his
when
you rinse off the boy butter
to the noise of amateur directed scenes
Brazilians in their jungle brilliance
or the cocoa skinned of Ipanema, Egypt,
or some ******' place
where anything
and everything’s
hung black...

i don’t care if this angers you,
i know you're reading it now.

still, it's a restless sleep
when i can't stop wondering
if your dysfunction is
caused by me...
     that i'm the reason why
you disappear to complete yourself
Meet your needs
Elsewhere...
Butch Decatoria
Written by
Butch Decatoria  47/M/Las Vegas, Nevada, USA
(47/M/Las Vegas, Nevada, USA)   
151
     Ophelia O and Medusa
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