You would not
believe the ache of my lungs
the way my head swims in cotton candy twirls.
Doll
After doll
But what is a man to do when every face,
when it greets me,
when it moves to kiss me,
looks the same to these wearied eyes.
Understand
I am not
a sexist.
I do not hate
women.
In fact, if I did not love them so much, I would not be so afraid
of hurting them.
I would not turn to plastic.
I would not breathe
through tube
After tube.
I would leave in my wake
A thousand
broken hearts.
Because each time
What I see
When I see such beautiful
lips
Is the ache of my own
Im
Perfection
And so this shipping container
Full of discarded
shots
at love
Is really a sign
of mercy
of self-doubt
of the goodness
that inhabits.
Also
This is Reginald
He is my dog.