What Do We Give Up to Remain Independent?


I adjust posture in bed
A small mound takes shape
As the comforter folds creating a pocket of air.

And I treasure this image
Pretending it’s a human thigh
That lurks inside the nothingness
Of my bed sheets.

I could jerk-off then fall asleep
Cuddling with the pillows again-
Accepting the clumps of cotton
As a rump pushed against
My flaccid prick.

But we’re not supposed to discuss such things,
Like masturbating because it makes loneliness

But for now I have this faux human thigh-
I am going to sleep stiff and stoic
As not to disturb it. Maybe when I wake up
It’ll still be here
To keep me company
For another night.

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