The River Styx But No Balls

I’m lucky, yes
lucky to have
a backbone to hold up
my waste product.

Like a coat-rack, I
hang my sins on
this phallic symbol;
piling high my late
nights to early mornings.

My moans, groans, and
desperate phone
calls, dated letters
written & received

Journal entries, cheaper
than therapy, right
along with my sexuality…
under, over and
in between empty
bottles. a subtle stain of
So Co or Jack.

Cigarette buds,
dutch guts and little
happy footballs

Each night pulling
Sins over my head

another pound another
Contribution