sometimes I think
I am only capable
of melancholy thoughts

but then I remember
that in my garden

there are purple flowers growing.

on the stone parapet*
the small troop stood guard
to keep any interlopers
out of their hallowed yard

they didn't want others
setting up a permanent camp
for that kind of turf gain
there'd be no rubber stamp

whomever contemplated
taking over at the location
were issued with a not
so nice get lost explanation

the place was theirs it would
be held by only them
a special title awarded unto
this company's stem

being aware of who's in control
on the castle's fortification
will serve those invaders
a very well timed notification

upon the gates was seen
the following post's discretion
to not heed it will be viewed
*as a mistaken perception

Anticipating
Inevitabilities
Continuously

Lately I.
Can't seem to wrap my head around this recurrent plight.

When I was.
Something playing male and heterosexual, my one regret.

Was I met.
Fearfully disgusted partners, with no touch, nor hungry glance.

Now and queer.
Something more akin to a metronome.

All the same.
Years of absent kisses caress new dejection
in their tidy space.

She said, "Grant your soft skin to devour."
Woke in abundant sheets, in the mess that I left them.

She said, "Open wide for my river."
Eyes up, ingest to distention.

She said, "Thank you for getting me done."
On my back so blue that I'm bruised plum.

Forever waiting for mine, wet with a lover's ***.