joe waltzes again

the bulldog politics of obsessive manipulatory
skills indicate that the clarity of
the bouillon soup is subject to change.
the clearer the soup, the more tasty,
or less, depending on the inclusion
of fatty particulates, and vegetative
debris.
**
while the sexy big-dicked young man
watched and waited, kind of interested
in what would happen next in the world,
kind of not caring any less,
it occurred to him that
the proximity of his fingers to his
big throbbing dick, as he lay
there on his back, naked, alone
in his bed, was enough to
produce the intended suspension
of thought patterns, related
to world synthesis, and anything
else for that matter. so, for
a number of slow delicate and
prolonged minutes, he touched
oh so delicately the sensitive
flared out
edges of his big tender cockhead,
and savored the jetty jolts of
electric current that shot
from his cockhead to his
balls to the edges of his tight pink
little asshole, and tingled still,
right at the tips of his itty-bitty
pointy little nipples.
when he finally spurted cum, the
stuff gushed and gushed and splatted
on his belly and splatted on
his chest, and gushed some
more, and in fact
the accompanying orgasm was so good
the sexy big-dicked young man
felt that everything, everything,
was going to be
perfectly okay.
**
a couple minutes later,
all cleaned up,
he lay naked on his back,
all the covers thrown off,
and, as he stared up into
the blackness of where
he knew the ceiling was
lurking,
the certainty of nothing
left an ichy taste
on his lips, and
the planet jupiter
coughed up another big
cloud of dust.
his room still smelled like
hot cum, though,
reassuring in its simplicity,
just follow your nose, and
you'll never go wrong.

--Carl Miller Daniels (2014)