Patrick

Found myself handcuffed
to the bed
my hands in shackles my eyes
fleeting across the room

A short attention span has
brought me panting now at
your feet from this eternal
wish-dream that I've been
painting

How? Why am I so indifferent
now? the future is nothing
worth planning
the summer is nothing worth
celebrating

I watch your hands, strong,
phallus-like, loosen awkwardly
below to hold the half-open
folder of music.

I feel no guilt.
I feel no owe.

I feel nothing but the
eyes of someone open-mouthed,
teary-eyed, glaring at my back.