I know of just too many Cyclopes,
Let me describe one of them better,
The one who preys on values of men.

So miniature he is - mere few inches,
So often in our pockets he is found,
So crooked he is with a single eye.

When among beautiful babes & gals,
He is active getting used in clicking,
Also used up is he sometimes by fishy men for fishier purposes.

This Cyclops was filming one such similar affair with a lady unaware,
Stripped naked was her body exposed to that bare,
Trick or truth, clothed or naked, she thought not about this cyborg Cyclops filming her **** ever in her wildest of fears.

The young lady is then blackmailed by the Cyclops's master,
"Be quiet about it and serve us in our industry,"
Threatened with publishing publicly of the moments - she gives in to this blackmail.

I'm in pieces
Smooth, jagged pieces
Vacuous spaces surround them
They are solitary islands
Of bulbous, fat, confused frustration
Heat rises to the surface of my skin
Itching, squirming feeling in my gut
My fingers find spaces to gnaw at
Trying to expel the gnawing embarrassment from my inner body

my fault is another's
laughter.
my soul begins
to sink as my red face
inks in my
embarrassment.
the smile i've put
there is convincing,
but it's a show.
under the apathy
i'm blinking
back hot tears.
they burn, but not
as much as the
cold slap of their
laughs