"boyhead" poems
I loved
The country Barber.
He used to roll
Fingers
All over my boyhead
After every haircut.
Five Minutes
Felt,
I am not alone in this world
Atleast,
For those minutes
I desired
About
Sleeping -
Stuck on his
Brimstonesmelling armpits,
Salty chesthairs
And
Sticky neck.
It was only because of
Pure Jealousy
I pushed his son
Into the deep
Marshy Death
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC