The pencil is
something to hold on to
something to grasp
as I flounder in space.
Youare back
cold
wanting me to be cold
"Love me during the hours
I appoint"
you seem to say to me.
Should I dump all these feelings
in your lap?
You are their father
your sperms conceived them.
It's an awful feeling to think
I will bounce from lover to lover
or else be stuck with a mucky love.
I guess sustained happiness
is not fate's plan for me.
She prefers to toss me.
It is programmed and set for me.
My puppies have each other
I have space.