wake up, rod

This poem was written for the multi-part poem about doubt assignment.  Video of the Poet jerking off I. The moaning is misleading and The Cure is playing  too loudly    for my fumbling hands to concentrate on cumming.  II. The rubber bands  around my wrist ━ The sweat-slicked ass naked through sheer, wet powder blue briefs ━ The outline, the lifeline,  the throb insistent as a never-broken-heart ━     are all well and good     but for the skinny, nearly     naked boy stroking at the camera.  III. The big revealing torrent!     Milked straight      from the source! Arrives in dribbles, sighing spurts, disappointing liquid shudder. IV. 'Perhaps,' I tell myself, 'this is someone's idea of a good time'    while wiping away the falling action. 

That Forever Bag a baggie of advil, crushed and processed like tender buttons, a dozen teddy bear eyes dissolving like chalk in rain – damaged headphones, two left channels broken, mute dangly black doubled – blue zippers shark-teeth layered atop each other, bagtightening power: expandable things contract; reporter’s book grids spill over the bar, graphing the location of each whiskey droplet – sugary nodules particulate with detergent in the bottom of bags: no cleaning agent stays trapped in the bottle; “of course you end up becoming yourself” with a red metal pen and a meat receipt – crocodiles crawl on the case, but I didn’t pay that much for them – paper eggs on money books, registers in fullness, the sign of rain, of sleet, of snow nor hail glaring predatory from my backside: sleek, fleet.

Pocket Poem Write a poem based on the contents of your pocket or purse or bag or shoe or pouch or crack baggie or whatever you use to carry shit. No cheating. Meaning, don't add cool stuff to your pocket now in a frantic attempt to win this poem. If you do cheat, do it mercilessly.