Scott Won’t Stop Talking about Farrio’s Dick

Scott talks about Farrios dick as if it’s launched a thousand ships. 
Going on about its thickness, the curve of it,
Yet when I showed him mine,
He gave me one his big Georgia smiles and said, that’s awesome man, good for you. 
As if I got an A on my science project or something.
Four months out of the closet and he’s already a size queen. 
Farrio does nothing for me,
Doesn’t move my dick like some men do. 
I was at one of Brandon’s after club sex parties
The first time I saw Farrio’s cock dressed in black briefs. 
Anthony and I were invited.
I think he just wanted to see Brandon’s dick in person
Outside of Snap chat videos. 
Luckily, I wasn’t that drunk
And Brandon and his boyfriend John, didn’t live
Too far from the bar. 
My only wish was to get John’s dick in my mouth,
To maybe push my face between the furry cheeks 
Of his Minnesota ass. 
Freeloader Anthony rang the doorbell. 
Some typical blonde boy answered.
I had seen him at the bar before. 
Some drag queen apprentice of Jessa’s I think.
Most were sitting outside on the back patio
With damn near nothing on as if they had done this before. 
John looked good enough to eat 
Walking around in his underwear, holding a bong. 
Such a cute cub with his thick, well-trimmed beard and Pizza-Hut belly.
He, Brandon and Farrio were the only three I knew by name. 
I had seen Brandon’s dick a few times at the local sex arcade
Being stuffed in someone’s mouth through a glory hole.
It’s pretty, but I never tasted it. 
I’m not much for sloppy seconds in a time of COVID 19.
But for Freeloader Anthony, Brandon’s dick was the kind that kept him up nights.
John’s ass was the sort that kept my mouth watering. 
Farrio went out back to join the other chicken cutlets.
We sat on the couch admiring the Eden of boys with their bulbous bulges.
Two men took things upstairs
While a couple of others began to play 
In a nearby room.
Things were going better than I expected 
Until I pulled out my phone to show a pic of my dick. 
That’s it!?! Some guy said, whom I had never seen before.
As if my dick is somehow detachable and comes with an assortment of sizes. 
I wasn’t much for partying after that and wanted to leave.  
It was late, and I was too drunk and sleepy 
For insults on what the good Lord gave me. 
Freeloader Anthony sat there staring stupidly anyway.
Come on, Anthony. Let’s go. They don’t want our fat asses.
It wasn’t the blowjobs under blue sky encounters I was used to, 
But at least I got this poem out of the experience.

The Fly

Fish on the Ice Counter

my living eye
clear curious
found its dead eye
milky sad
its slack line mouth
slightly open
fins
little pieces
of cellophane
a fly wandered across its dry back,
and I said
sorry,
cousin.

Fly Life

Sticking to the wallpaper
washing its front legs
the fly looks like
it’s saying a prayer
but really it’s thinking
about a dead fish
it was recently standing on.

The Fat Man

The fat man lives
at the end of the universe
with his wife
and his diabetes
He squeezes his ass
into his chair
in front of his TV.
He sits there all day
every day.
That day he was sitting there
eyeing the fly
pitched on the peeling wallpaper.
He only got one good eye
so he was watching it with that.
The other stared ahead like a dead fish.
He hates that fly
He hates all flies.
They get on your food
when you aint looking
and
shit vomit piss
suck it all up
and trample over it with their dirty feet.
That’s what the TV told him.
That’s why he sits in his chair
sweating and cursing like a sultan
plastic fly swat in his hand
waiting
waiting for that fly.

Antares

It could all be from the drugs
but I think we found innocence
tonight in the parking lot
in front of your house
watching the Antares rocket 
from your phone become
a shooting star across the Jersey sky
we waived goodbye to the spaceship
becoming alien in the cassiopeia
of those haunted autumn lights.
I think of my youth, chasing daylight
along the beaches of the Bayshore
your smile reminds me of then
and I think maybe home
isn’t a place but a series of moments
when we feel less alone 

[i am so depressed]

my girlfriend is taking a nap

i pull up a porn site,

search : 

tiniest, blind, retarded, mental patient, quad amputee, [redacted] 

but nothing’s doing it for me lately…

except

i pull up the deep dark web video again,  a guy jerking off alone in a dark room, giving a gun a blowjob, and as he’s climaxing he pulls the trigger

i donno y this turns me on so much, i’m 100% straight

anyways, i rain cum on myself 

then forget about cleaning it up

i spend a while in the forums of a pro suicide website, just doin some research for my novel 

check to see if she’s awake

nope

i buy a bunch of stuff with her credit card

i notice the cum has dried on my chest and stomach

it’s crusty

i pick it out of the hairs

and put it on my desk

crush it up with her credit card

it looks like cheap cocaine

oh shit, she’s awake, 

watching me 

she says wUt the fUck r u doing

what can i say… 

i got us some cocaine, baby

she grabs a hundred dollar bill from her purse

rolls it up

and snorts a line

then gives me the bill

i snort a line

omg, i am so high, she says,

this is good shit

me too, i say,

i am so depressed

Mannequin

Stand in front of the window.
That’s it. Right in front of your bed.
I know the curtains are open.
Yes, I know they can see in.
Don’t worry.  You’re beautiful.
It’s only the fat-uglies and old
no one wants to see.

Take off your t-shirt.
I want to smell it.
It’s better than all of nature,
and you’ve been sleeping.
No, don’t turn around.
Keep facing that way.
Play to your public.

Spread your legs apart,
that’s it, shoulder-width,
just like you’re lifting weights.
Push your crotch forward,
arch your back.
Can you feel me close to you?
Can you feel my breath?

Bow your head, I’m about to fuck.
You’re cool and clean, ready.
That’s it, push that ass out.
Don’t move your hands.
People are staring, yes.
They will probably be shocked.
Something to whisper at work.
Something to dream at night.

The Fact of Her

In San Francisco
at any given moment
there is a girl 
on Grant St.
in North Beach
wearing a long
and fashionable coat
raven black hair
tumbling down  
upon her shoulders 
a cup of wine
in one hand
maybe a cigarette 
in the other
looking 
like something 
from an old 
French film
swaying
on the sidewalk
to music from a bar
or a man playing
guitar on a corner
maybe she knows
you’re watching
maybe she doesn’t
but the thing is
the simple fact of her
makes all the rest of it  
worth suffering 
through.

I’ll Be Waiting

If you wanna get real, honey;
escape the whip of the circus
but still do some tricks,
send a limo

If you wanna cosplay;
be the motherfucking burger king
with a well-done honey
and have it your way, well,
I’ll run up and grab me some fries
and maybe your crown then, later babe,
send a limo

If you wanna trace my backbone
with your tongue and remember 
the 80’s chills
you got when you were young 
watching your new favorite horror flick,
send a limo

If you wanna know what it’s like 
to have a switchblade on your throat
and be so in love 
with the pulse 
of walking the line, well, babe,
send a limo

Sex With a Stranger 

Her body breathes me in —
shivers trace her spine 
they drape over me like a fleshy canopy
her shadowy form obscuring a still half-moon
we follow beads of sweat 
from her forehead 
down to her navel
songs pour from our tongues
her body breathes me in.

When I enter I start with
her mouth
lips brush, indelible
I taste her nipples, stroke her ready cunt 
with my fingers,
anticipate nothing unfamiliar.

Her skin is intimate as clockwork
and twice as complex
to me
her voicelessness drums along like dialogue 
skin murmuring softly.

I love her, it’s dangerous.

Night-veiled
she pours herself over my ticking cock
we listen to the way our bodies converse.

Before swallowing the dark’s
envy
she kisses the air goodnight.

Her body breathes me in —

We fuck like 
pure poetry.

A drowning

A thought
           Not new
(What is?)
I’ve been told it’s ok to grieve
Our relationship, and everything your absence has cleaved; your fingers
pulling at my hair as I drove us
back and forth 
from yours to the city
from yours to a reality
           not quite there
I was lax
I thought you’d settle 
and continue drinking as hard as me 
Lost even as I was led through slick
red halls
The grunting Minotaur 
Jangling jester with his fucking hat
How do you not get the joke yet?

(I think this is the first I’ve seen the sun in three months)

Herd mentality 
Sipping at the edge of the lake 
of mortality and mistaken identity 
Notice me
I say staring at my reflection 
while someone drowns three feet away

The Dance

I am dressed as a beast and I am dressed as a hungry animal
and I am in a room full of prey. There are girls here that look like deer
boys that look like rabbits, everybody smells like food.

I howl at the moon looming in the window and a few eyebrows raise
because they think I’m just dressed as a beast I’m not
actually a beast, I’m perfectly safe even though I am 
a little strange. 

Because I am so strange, it doesn’t take long for one of the deer girls
to come over and offer a tiny smile of acknowledgement
shy prey drops eyes after initial contact. Blood pours into
dormant arteries. Stomach growls. “I haven’t eaten all day.”
It sounds like a joke, she brings me a tray of crackers and little sandwiches. 

There was a time when it would be more shocking for me to dance with a woman
than to gut and kill the same woman in the alley out back. I remember those times. 
I remember the newspaper headlines. It makes planning an evening out
so much more difficult, knowing that we can just leave this night
at a dance, and no one would say a thing.