I masturbate

Before I pray

I blind myself

Before I see

I tickle time

Like it is mine

A blond play thing

With big blue eyes

And a dumb smile

That is my time

So what is yours?

More to the point

May I tease yours

Away from you?

Your minute hand

Snapped off your clock

And taped to mine?

No? What a shame

I could have loved

What I could take

Maybe not love

Truth to be told

But stolen time

Inspires fondness

And lazy verse




Not with a bang

God forbid that

Nor a whimper

But just middling

Not much before

Not much after

Awake in bed

Sometime at noon

Is that not fair

Enough for you?

Or good enough

for sweet adieu?

No? Not enough?

Then kindly sit

While I pour tea

A toast for Queen

Rum roasted nuts

And bitter cream

Pray look away

While I unzip

And diddle mine

A royal plum

With stringy hairs

But a kind smile

To pass the time.

Published by Michael Sean Erickson

I write, act, and produce films in Los Angeles. Everything else is conjecture.

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