In my layings, I writhe slightly on all fours. My body brought forward so that I can see my prick resting on the white sheets. See its size, see its colours, and tones, and hues of colour. See its shapes. The veins running its length. The foreskin drawn back over its head. See it erect and see it half erect. The purples and the pinks. The damp transparent sperm patches on the white sheets where it lies. I see the surface. The stickiness. The limp hanging balls are relieved. The hair is pulled. Some is stuck in the dampness. The abstract sense of loneliness. The sense of being all this pink and purple. The being the big man, holding the jackhammer to shovel in power line life. And of being the knobby joker and the one-eyed pimp. Of being the crowd, and the only man who just now keels on all fours and looks at his prick.
Lyrics submitted by Durandal1717