In your sleep, well earned as rest,
Salivate; let it drool thick, drool foamy,
And down: in imitation of the Styx,
Let it seep over the pillow lace
In ultimate bliss. Copy and paste this dream from his.
Civilization is cruel; hence,
They stop short safe by being your
Brov in public; Your ‘buddy’ perhaps,
On Facebook to hug, rofl or lol you:
Never to tell in your ear that they’d rather have you as whore.
So, their sighs, with choked breath,
Which shoot out of their eyes, as the core
Sublimation (for every time they lie) get not spoken
Even as they are out there in the open. Offer
Prayers for the soul of he who stitched the first jock.
She snaps her forefinger and of course she knows
That you, of your myriad kind, salivate
In your sleep; and, that, underneath you urge unlike
Your looks which emerge like the
Predestined sun through a calm, ordinary cloud.