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fuck
you make me cry
your sensitivities
your little boy-a-tivities
i cry
because i can make you feel
better than you can me
i can take you to that place
where work
and the upward climb
are banned
i am the vessel
sail me to the day
where kids and dogs and bills and whores and taxes
and the dead
don't matter
anymore
tell a buddy
why it's so good
swap tales
"how's she smell?"
talk shop
tattoos
blow job skills
jack off to me
my hair asunder
my legs around you
my vessel me
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I want this started off with the speaker relucant to accept the emotional connection between herself and the beloved- the opening 'fuck' as a kind of '"damn you". But then it changed to the speaker urging the beloved to celebrate her, to revel in her, it became the speaker's celebration of herself in a way. Uplifting.
Right off the bat with this poem it was harsh and very striking. you've created an attitude about your naration. very highly effective toward the theme. the emotion is understood and felt entirely.
Isn't funny how often sex becomes metaphor. Us guys, being more fragile than we would like people to know, need strong vessels to pour our life into, it gives us the strength to keep all our plates spinning.
