The Dog
Open my eyes on a bloodshot morning
The champion strains his leash
He's howling in pain, but he's howling in vain
The lights on Love Street are red
Tension mounts in my flesh
The rigidity of perplexed anguish
Turgid in my purple soldier's head
Veins popping, striated muscle pink and warm
I whip him, three times a day
Offer him a hand out of spite
I'll be frank: I spank and I spank
This thing's bigger than the both of us
Copyright © Bill Boenker | Year Posted 2019
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