In search of NSA fun (m4m)

I know you've been watching everything I do.

So why don't you come over

and we can play?

You know all the things I like to look at

like pictures of cats and cartoons and recipes.

I’m long, and I’m strong

and I’m down to the get the friction on

SJW ISO same.

No FBI or CIA, computer virus-free only.

Just want to have some quick, clean fun.

Keyboard mashing

I wrote a text message with my toes

and sent it to my lab partner from freshmen year.

It read "aanfgls."

Their reply ("Who is this?")

came as no surprise.

It just wasn't the same after I spilled

the bottle of diluted acetic acid

on their lab coat.

The Prostate Poems Part 5

The Prostate Poems I-XXVI

XXVII.

the first pains of inexperience

give way to excitement

only returning on the morrow

XXVIII.

You did it right

You did it slow

Now do it once more

XXIX.

it’s right there,

so often ignored

found with purpose

by knowing hands,

exploring hands

XXX.

blessing to the sodomites

for finding their source

XXXI.

I press

a thumbprint scanner

of biological design

the beep-beep reaction

music to my ears

XXXII.

screams ripped

from somewhere deeper

than your throat

XXXIII.

Churning makes this cream into butter

molecules excited

rearranging into new patterns

Towel count

It's endless, mindless.
Folding half, in half, in half again.
But there's something soothing
about 200 towels
fluffy and white.
Sweat.
They make you sweat
and then collect it into
the very fabric of their being.
Fresh, their static shock becomes
a lover's kiss
from the dimension of missing socks;
their warmth a hug
from kling-klang wombs.
Their ivory towers
built in Pisa
mock gravity before succumbing
to the allure of bodies in motion.

The Prostate Poems Part 4

Prostate Poems I-XVII

XVIII.

the build

to contraction

travels ever outward

XIX.

there is no pull internal

except that which focuses

and obliterates

XX.

velvet-tickled tissue

constitutes the barrier wall

the most direct access

never sees the light of day

XXI.

the silent child

in adulthood bears

to distant grounds

seeds

XXII.

urethral envelopment

in advanced growth

restricts passage

XXIII.

let’s not dance around the opening

and instead delve head-first

for the sweet spot

XXIV.

accessory organ

bound in supporting fascia

unchained in bliss

XXV.

in the space before

where only after effects are known

attention draws

XXVI.

feel me, fools

for I am resplendent

in your pleasure

502

Decomposing into couches

we’ve entered a true state of vegetation,

the interlocking smoke rings a green chain hanging.

Warped by the reality of 300 years of history

whose chains won't go away;

they’re melted and reworked

into handguns and zip ties,

metal bars and handcuffs.

This green has a history of its own,

a history of demonization.

It is a mythology laced with invisible truths

with something more chronic than short term memory loss.

These victories capitalize on a luxury

ignorant of the years of tireless action behind it.

This victory has deeper satisfactions than

the slowing inhale off a freshly loaded bowl.

The voice you’re hearing is complicit, stoned in solidarity

from the comfortable privilege of collegiate vice.

Once locked in this couch by complacency,

now freed by the voices clamoring for justice.

So yes, initiative is an apt word

though motivations might be suspect

and information, it frees your mind

when all we’re ever told was meant to keep us docile.

The Prostate Poems Part 3

Prostate Poems I-XII

XIII.
just one, just one
but oh what a good one it is

XIV.
one way only?
someone just changed the sign

XV.
it's deceiving on the diagram
so pressingly close
wrapped in tissue
forgotten until activated

XVI.
one who stands before
sitting in lightless entrances for centuries
releases armies through the gate

XVII.
secretions of changing viscosity
propelled by smooth innervations
in exultant paroxysm alight
toward absolution and damnation