working through it

two sexy young men, one who is depressed,
and one who isn't, standing
in the depressed guy's apartment, late at night, talking,
just the two of them:

the depressed guy says: "i have seen your dick and i like it,"
and then he gets this weird crazy kind of expression
on his face, as if he's asking himself NOW WHY DID I SAY THAT?

the guy who isn't depressed says: "i can get undressed if you like."

the depressed guy says: "i don't know."
the guy who isn't depressed says: "let's just both get undressed
and cuddle on your bed. i bet you'll feel better."

the depressed guy says: "i'm not in the mood to have sex."
the guy who isn't depressed says: "you say that NOW."

the guy who isn't depressed smiles charmingly, and his
eyes flash signals of aliveness and zest for life.

the depressed guy has tears welling up in his eyes.
the depressed guy feels really really morose.

the depressed guy says: "i'm really not planning on
having sex, ok?"
the guy who isn't depressed says: "hey! you
know me after all this time, i hope! no pressure!! but let's
just get undressed and cuddle. sometimes when you're
feeling down like this, it helps just to lie
there with somebody you like. and i hope i'm still someone you
like???"

the depressed guy says: "of course you are."
the guy who isn't depressed says: "that's good."
then,
the guy who isn't depressed adds, "and you're
someone i happen to like very very much, ok?"

the depressed guy nods, kind of listlessly.

the guy who isn't depressed takes off all of his
clothes and stands there in the living room
of the depressed guy's apartment.
the guy who isn't depressed is hot-looking, naked,
sexy, sweet face, beautiful lips, big smooth cock.

then, the guy who isn't depressed says, "OK now!
let's see that sexy sexy body of yours!"

but, so far, the depressed guy has only taken off his
shirt. the depressed guy looks good that way -- shirtless --
he is lean, has muscles, a byronic face, with dark sad eyes.
the depressed guy stands there shirtless in his own living
room looking lost, confused, ill-at-ease.

the guy who isn't depressed says: "oh come on now,
off with those shoes, young man! and off with those
pants!" he says these
words very cheerfully, encouragingly, gently,
with a twinkle in each of his mischievous eyes.

the depressed guy sits down on the couch and
starts unlacing his shoes.  he does so as
if it's a real effort, as if there's no meaning
in shoes, laces, socks, feet, as if the entire world
is a distant and annoying little buzzing sound.

the guy who isn't depressed says: "jesus! you
are freaking me out here! let me do that, ok?"

the depressed guy leans back on the couch,
his hands by his side. "ok" he says.

very gently, the guy who isn't depressed unties
the depressed guy's shoe laces.  then the
guy who isn't depressed pulls off the
depressed guy's shoes (adidas, track shoes).
then the guy who isn't depressed pulls
off the depressed guy's socks.

"wow!" says the guy who isn't depressed. "VERY nice.
you've even got sexy toes, did you know that?"

the depressed guy smiles just a tiny little
bit, but his lips barely move at all, actually.
you'd miss it if you weren't looking real real
close.  the guy who isn't depressed IS looking
real real close.  "that's better," says the
guy who isn't depressed. "i saw that little
tiny hint of a smile. i knew there was one
in there somewhere. now, stand up, ok?"

the depressed guy stands up real slow.

"that's it!" says the guy who isn't depressed.
"real good!! now i'm gonna undo your
belt and unzip your pants, ok?"

something dark and scary crosses the
depressed guy's face. then it fades, mostly.
"ok," says the depressed guy.

the guy who isn't depressed unbuckles the
depressed guy's belt, pulls down his zipper.

"you are one sexy guy," says the guy
who isn't depressed. "don't be alarmed
if i get a hardon, ok? it doesn't mean
we have to have sex. it only means
i'm standing here naked undressing
a very sexy guy who i happen to like
a whole lot. it's a natural reaction,
sorry."

"sure," says the depressed guy. "whatever."
the depressed guy really does not seem
to care about what is happening at this
moment. he really does not seem to care
that a naked and very attractive
big-dicked young man is undressing him.

"let's just get you undressed and
in bed beside me," says the guy
who isn't depressed. "then i'm gonna
do some serious holding and comforting,
no doubt about that."

"hmmm" says the depressed guy. there is
a tear at each corner of his
deep dark sexy brooding eyes.

the guy who isn't depressed pulls
down the depressed guy's pants, then
he pulls down the depressed guy's underpants.

"come on," says the guy who isn't
depressed.  "step out of these, ok?
just lift your feet, and take a little
step. it's not that difficult."

the depressed guy obeys, as if why
the hell not, why the hell not bother,
why the hell not do anything, or
why DO anything, for that matter. the depressed
guys eye's are vacant, dark, almost
blank, actually, and just a bit scary.

the depressed guy is totally naked now,
and beautiful, and masculine, and very
very sexy.

so now both the depressed guy and
the guy who isn't depressed walk
naked down the hall into the depressed
guy's bedroom. in there is a
big bed, full-size, at least,
maybe bigger. the bed is neatly
made. the guy who isn't
depressed pulls back the covers.
the sheets look clean and smooth.

"come on" says the guy who isn't depressed.
"lie down here beside me, ok?"

the guy who isn't depressed climbs onto
the bed and lies down on his back.
the depressed guy lies down, too,
right beside him. they are both
lying on their backs. the guy who
isn't depressed pulls up the covers
and snuggles in beside the depressed
guy. he pushes his nose up against
the side of the depressed guy's neck,
drapes one arm over the depressed  
guy's chest.

"any idea what's wrong?" says the
guy who isn't depressed. "or is
it the same as usual?"

the depressed guy sighs darkly.
"the same" he says. "i just get
this way sometimes. i thought
you understood."

"i do," says the guy who isn't
depressed. "really. it's like
a brain-wave thing or something. your
brain waves go one way for a while,
and then they go the other." he
kisses the depressed guy on the
side of his neck. "did i say it
right?"

"pretty much" says the depressed
guy.

"thought so," says the guy who isn't
depressed. "i'm a pretty good listener,
you know. i pay attention."

"hmmmmm," says the depressed guy, his
voice fading away, as
if he sort of doesn't care.

they lie there naked in bed together,
the guy who isn't depressed pressing
himself close up against the depressed
guy, cuddling, snuggling, gently
kissing the depressed guy's neck from time.

"i do love you," says the guy who
isn't depressed.

"and i love you," says the depressed guy.

"i'm sorry you're feeling down," says
the guy who isn't depressed.  "i'm here
to help, and you won't feel bad forever. we
both know that."

"ummm," says the depressed guy. "we both
know."

they lie there naked together,
under the covers, and as the
guy who isn't depressed snuggles up
against the depressed guy, the
depressed guy starts to snuggle back,
just a little, but, still, there
is a bit of reciprocation going on.

they lie there like that a long time.
they both lose track. 2 hours?
3 hours? only the beside lamp
is on, and neither of them
gets out of bed to turn it off.
they both fall asleep.

in the middle of the night,
the guy who isn't depressed
is awakened by the
depressed guy speaking these words:

"climb on top of me, ok?"

the depressed guy is flat on his
back, looking up at the ceiling.

the guy who isn't depressed
rolls over, climbs on top of
the depressed guy. they push
their chests together. they
push their big dicks together.
they push their bellies together.
they kiss each other, hard.

"there," says the depressed guy.
"perfect. just stay this way, ok?"

the depressed guy has his arms
wrapped tightly around the back
of the guy who isn't depressed.
the depressed guy is holding,
hugging, pulling the guy who
isn't depressed tight up against
him. they both have big hardons now.

"this feels fantastic" says the
depressed guy. "let's just lie
here this way, the rest of the
night, ok?"

the guy who isn't depressed says:
"sure, whatever you want."

they lie there like that. the
bottoms of their
hard dicks are pressed tight up
against each other.

the depressed guy holds onto
the guy who isn't depressed
as if the
guy who isn't depressed is the only thing in
the entire world that's pure
and virtuous and beautiful, the only thing
that even matters at all.

the guy who isn't depressed
likes this feeling, likes
this feeling that he's really
needed, wanted. he likes this feeling
a lot. he likes it so much he
starts to cry. his
tears run down his face and plop
onto the face of the depressed
guy.

both guys are hot, and sweaty.
they can feel the liquid sheen
of the sweat between their chests,
pushed tightly against each other.

the guy who isn't depressed pushes
his arms under the back of the
depressed guy, and hugs him
as tightly as he can.

they lie there in bed in the
middle of the night, both crying now,
both hugging each other as hard
as they can, their big stiff dicks
pressed up against each other.

in another instant, they are
both crying and spurting their cum
all over each other's bellies,
at practically the exact same moment.

then they go limp, the guy who
isn't depressed slumping on top
of the guy who is; then, again,
they hug each other tight,
their arms wrapped around each
other; they kiss each other on
the neck. embracing, feeling
the heat of each other's bodies --
the embrace they are sharing
the balm, the salve, and the
glue that assures them both,
whenever there's any doubt,
of why they truly belong together.

after they wipe themselves off,
they snuggle in for the rest of
the night. they both sleep like babies,
and, in the morning, everything's
fine, just fine -- maybe even
beautiful.

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