::02:29:08::

::: Wishin :::

A wish
Lies down on shallow knees,
Both red and bruising fair,
Stark and haggard,
Dying upon the grey flags and the Avenue.
It’s broken wing waves heavy,
Exhausted with time,
And crumbles
Under the hunger of joyful men and
We, who supply such fantasies.
A cheap drive-thru
Of blistered lips and bad blow jobs
Wrench the color from our cheeks,
Now crusted white,
And slick down our wild manes
Of bleached skin and finest hair.
Lurking further down with simple hands:
Our sublime,
Fantasy is left to the readiness of gilted lilies.
Coursing,
Pulsing,
Wet with heat and sweet sweat,
We are moved,
Heart in hand, to fill these
Precious,
Unfulfilling fantasies.
For such men deserve more
and we give more in return.
In the end
Supply demands its own fantasies.
Nothing much,
Simple demands,
Wishful thinking.

“I wish to jump
into a painted cloud
and drift long and lazy
along the time of morning.”

Written by: ~ Tyler Scott