So, which dreams wrap me in arms
in hours of the longsome night?
What phantoms share their charms
before intrusive morning light?
I am intertwined, mixed with arms
and legs imitating an in-ring fight.
The facade of a battle movements made,
the sword inserted to the sheath,
the polishing of that sharpened blade,
with upheavals above and beneath.
And then the O of the o\' so sweet death
from maneuvering in an out, in an out
with our each and every breath.
Then rises my poor member
with each fevered naughty ghost
that haunts the pleasures I remember,
the ones that still touch me most.
It warms the nether of this old man
from the first one to my last
from pale ones to the tan,
the seasonings from my past.