Domesticated Cock.

Domesticated cock that is
a warm penis. Old faithful
that erupts like a pocket clock.
Swing around with pee.
It's harmless, just stinky.
In the open air free as can be,
cradled with cotton & fleece.
Occasionally it would sing in glee,
getting wet in a cave so sweet.
"Hello, I have information
that you will want indeed.
If you miss this opportunity,
you will die horribly!"
"Oh, warm penis, won't you
be kind & leave me alone,
stop wrecking havoc?"
The domesticated cock is
not pleased. It bobs its 
head like a penis not wanted.

Nul.

There's the dark nights
with no land in sight,
drifting in the shifting fog
& the reflections on the ink black.

Sleep's someone else's dream
& I'm having the nightmare leftovers.
They look familiar.
I say, "Hi."

Perfecting the personal recipe
for self-reproach, doubt &
"Oh, what was I thinking?"
"Was I really there? Am I even here?"

I think I will go on, regardless.

If.

If I can love you,
I will murder for you the sun & the moon.
If I can ever be so close,
I will look into your eyes & spit at them.
If I have one belief,
I will twist it into a cup for your tears.
If I can forge anything,
surely the spender will drive you mad.
If I can sing for you
the song that penetrates & suffocates.
If I can make it right,
no one can save you & nobody would care.
If I can do all of these,
would you worship me just as I feared?

Lush.

The night's air's fragrant
like a Lush bath-bomb
that I'm addicted to
and never runs out
but needed more
so I splurged & ordered
online then picked up
at the store cause shipping's
not free and there're people
walking on the streets
good location shopping district
people needs space to
feel safe & shopping is
the common trait brings all
people out even during
pandemic I'm walking
plague & yet I want
the smell of blooming flowers then
I cut them up & put into
jars like reddit says
then I got depressed again
but I never run out of lush.