graft in my usual way
condesceneds to my being
because i've yet to exceed
my own expectations
failed to gain my
proper potential
when concerning
the meaning of life
the act of Love
because i lost the idea
somewhere between
his hands and my thighs
it got confused
and swirled around
in the perspiration
and enjoyment beneficials
along with momemts
of supposed passion
in thoughts and dreams
of one nite stands
that lack conviction
of living day to day and
not worrying
about when he leaves
in the morning-
what will happen-
what will be thought
Love got lost amongst
the ruffles of lustful sheets
in an eternally unmade bed
and now
i've turned into
exactly what i hate--
2.13.01
