One day of a lonely life

my thoughts became entwined

it did not take a great amount

of will to settle my mind.

 

Resorting to the grip 'n drip

to muster up the mustard

I savoured some photos of impossible beauty

a sense of something impossibly fruity.

 

Though with the degradation of age

and its fruitless dreams of heritage

my thoughts debased by nubile youth

the evidence would give the game away

 

with an orgasm like the tender cry

of a sad old wolf in the wilderness

a dissemination of fluid

 

blown back

by rejection

into a seam of infected illusion

and a sense of lonely confusion.