Hold Your Horses

I’m destined

Filling pages with creepy

Hints and urges

Tales of my unused prick

Hold your horses I’m not saying cunt

Starvation is only getting to me

Or full ripe lust will turn me

Inside out

But here’s some shame

The cheap stuff

That colours my fingernails

And wakes me at 5.45 a.m

On a Saturday with a hard on

Over my last one

I pulled at it

Settling down

Slowing my hunted heart

A porno projecting

On the back of my lids:

She’s bending over

To light a cigarette in rainbow

Panties she soaps up

My cock and her breasts

And puts 2 + 2 together

On her hands

Bouncing on me

Her happy ass slapping my thighs

After the frenzy

My room goes grey

And cars on Hampstead Road

Beep and honk

Sometimes the rain

Sends me back to a pitiful sleep

Or I’ll try and make

It to another X frame

But that doesn’t work

I’ve got a set of projections

That wake me

That I work with

I say her name

Out loud

And try use a 6^th

Sense to make her whip off

The covers and rub herself

That rhythmic sticky sound

Breathing and whispers

Her cunt blooms and tingles

I listen to traffic and creaky floorboards and the

Interrupting washing machine on its first cycle

On my day off.