Surrounded by the Wasteland, in this Instance Sleep
He sleeps alone. We always sleep alone—
All humans sleep inside their nightmares, dreams
And souls. Our separate spirits sleep and moan
Like Caesar feeling Macedon’s regimes
Extended far beyond this Roman’s tiny deeds.
But now this young one’s beauty slumbers on.
Inside him he is making manly seeds
Between brown thighs made up of wish and brawn.
This young one’s loveliness is sleeping still,
Or twitching, as his partner watches filled
With longing, wanting, wanting him to drill
Up deeply, making sure those seeds are spilled.
The loneliness fills up this lover’s head.
This lover well past sleep spreads legs in bed.
~ Phillip Whidden