nests

the endowment which he had been given
was a great body, a sweet face, and a big dick.
he'd had to do no work at all to get all that.
it had just happened.
**
people liked being around him, too.
he was friendly, had a good voice,
enjoyed conversation -- and being 23 years
old and lean, athletic, tall,
good-looking -- all of that certainly
seemed to work to his advantage.
**
yet, he dreamed dark dreams,
his thoughts drifted down bleak and
despair-filled rivers; he often
woke in the middle of the night
and bawled like a baby, just
because he felt incredibly sad.
**
at times like this, if the weather
was good, he climbed out
of bed, put on shorts and tennis shoes, nothing
else, and went out running -- sometimes
for miles and miles, through dark quiet
suburban streets in the middle of
the night.  then, near the end of his
run, he ended up in the deep dark
middle of the municipal
golf course, where he
stripped off his shorts & shoes
and masturbated under the warm night
stars, spurting cum onto the
soft dewy grass.
**
if the weather was bad, he sat
naked in front of late-nite tv, whatever
was on, it didn't really seem to matter,
and he masturbated there;
he preferred masturbating in front
of something interesting on tv,
but he had found that even
the weather channel was satisfactory.
then, after spurting
a great deal of cum, he wiped
up, returned to bed, and slept
fitfully until the alarm clock rang,
at which point he got out of
bed, and again, uttered
his marriage vows to the world,
to the universe, to the stars and to
the galaxies
and to the vast expanse of vastness.
**
then, as usual, he floated
thru the day like a mote of dust,
greeting the other dust-lings,
cheating on the lunar debris.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Gorilla Architecture, published by Interior Noise Press in 2011.)