Friday, September 3, 2010

Poem-A-Day: Day 295

I'll be camping again, you know the rhyme.

Something Missing
the water batters the back of my head
and I do nothing but stare down at the white,
the stark polished finish of the tub
glaring at me
I swear I can see my distorted reflection
so I avert my eyes and start to notice things
I look past the water slowly dripping
from the head of my dick
and I see some Lovecraftian beast
tentacles and claws moving in the flow
the remnants of her last stay
a balled up wad of hair at the end of the tub
and I think of what she’s doing without me

No comments:

Post a Comment

Drop a line, a quip, a snippet, your pants, or an anecdote...just don't drop the soap.