THE JASON OF MEN

Carrie was talking to me on the

telephone earlier about the boys

I've been screwing, dating, & kissing.

She said: "I just didn't think he was your type..."

Makes me smile; thinking that Carrie doesn't

understand; & none of my friends do.

The men that I choose to share sex, truth,

& devastation with are always a part of what

lingers behind the deaths of old friends who

whispered & twittered in my youthful ear.

The latest is an example of what I find attractive -

his words & his actions are an echoe of my youth -

I can't place my finger or any other part of me on why

my cock hardened or why my mind raced when this boy

spoke of everything that I asked for & more.

I don't fall in love with bodies or physiques... I fall for psycho boys

named Gene, Mark, & Shawn.

I fall for boys who share that sparkle - that glimmer - that tear drop.

I share with boys - I struggle - I strive - I LISTEN - & I am yet still alive.

And the physical is only a means of expression...

The minstrations of fingers...

With the cocks thrusting & sucking &

tongues licking assholes, & nipples, & fingers,

& lips...

All that is only a whisper of the scream that I feel.

All that I long for...

All that is real...

All that I will not resist or conceal...

All with these men,

As we love, fuck & heal.