Through The Trees

I can feel her dissecting me
refusing my reach
preaching about my disgusting phallic infancy
these my propensities
wearing my naked flesh like hunter's orange
stalking wildlife
through the trees
this stiff cock from the shore is the lighthouse beacon
pointing to lost sailors at sea
grab a'hold, mate
secure the line
strive to pull your saturated soul from the deep

she wants me whole
but I hide when she seeks
I smoke too much grass and laugh when there's somewhere else
     I should be
too lazy to clean my house
too lazy to clean my life
too lazy to write good poetry.

TA