huddled together in such closeness that moist beads of sweat
inter-locked each un-kept armpit in an intricate woven tapestry
of body hair and caked-on layers of dirt..
Each time the clock slowly completes a rotation,
bingo wings start to flap mid-air and ork-like shrieks
fill the room with a warm glow of ignorance..
A basketball game was on TV.
This should have been an idealistic moment
in my waking life to un-shroud my agoraphobic tube of flesh
from it's prison issue home, unravel it's freshly shaven ball sack
and finish this marvel of Turkish/Polish/English cross pollination
with a slow stream of thick grey dead semen entering the
New York City sewage system.
But things did not quite work out how one had planned..
As a man..
A Turkish one at that..
that has been specifically chosen because of it lowers your sex drive,
i still have to dun the dance every once in a while.
I have never and will never enjoy fondling my distraught penis
while possessing the knowledge that another penis-carrying entity
is less than seven foot from me and capable of entering my domain
of masturbation with ease..
Given the rare gift of some isolation/peace and quiet/jerk time..
I will dust off the hammer an spray a couple licks.
If i do not..
It can have some negative side effects..
After enthusiastically doggy-style stabbing some mind-made
piece of pussy that my brain has kindly treated me to..
Being treated to the forever-shameful feeling of waking up..
In a fucking JAIL cell..
With a liquid mesh of dead sperm and pubic hair
bubbling on my groin..
It gets even better!!
Then i have the pleasure of slurping my
way to the sink, peeling off the spunk-soaked
draws an silently soaping up my spermy dick
an balls in the sink!!
So as the hordes of dribbling,
toothless grunts lined their fecal-stained chairs
up to watch i don't give a fuck play suck your mother,
i gleefully retire to my quaint sleeping chambers,
armed with a pathetically deviant-like collection of
magazine clippings and a faint hope that this crappy
collage of females is going to tingle my penis out of
its slumber and inspire my freshly shaven balls into
mass evacuation of all the clostrophic spunk that
has accumulated in my sack..
I put up the crusty towel over the window..
Brandish a Turkish firearm..
An get ready to cash some long overdue cheques..
A mid-speed rhythmic strangulation technique,
couple with sporadic squeezes of nut sack
produces a mildly interested mono-vained
With a little bit of discipline and focus..
An perhaps added wrist-twists..
Should shortly produce a cloudy steam
of salty liquidized Turkish babies into the
closest piece of fabric that i have chosen
to act as the coveted Cum Rag..
overwhelms the room, killing any kind of romantic
feeling that has struck up between my penis and
it's five fingered lover..
All i can hear is the heroin-damaged voices
spouting phlegm infused statements of idiocy,
revolving around Maybachs, Phantoms,
"N****r's can't say shit to Flo Rida"
"That n****r BALLIN'"
I'm sitting cross legged..
Bottom lip trembling..
Sporting a ball bag that could
give the impression that i have
An an erection that is in full remission..