Komodo Rats


My stomach is cramping up,
suggesting I not go on this fool’s voyage.
My legs are all wiggly
and I’ve got pins and needless
making each inch an ache
my dick is leading this charge
and, apparently,
we march on his orders.
I am going to Jillian’s.

My calves stab.
My skull is screaming at me:
“Don’t go!
The trip is agony;
just imagine the arrival!”
My heart is working overtime
recalling Jillian’s last visit.
It skips, occasionally,
anticipating an attack
by Komodo rats
or whatever else Jill has in store.
This trip hurts
but I’m heading there,
dick first,
no matter what.

My eyes flash
imaginig what they may see.
My arms are numb.
This path is killing me;
I may break before I get there
and if I don’t,
I know I’m certain to fall
on the long walk home.

About Jonathan Berger

I used to write quite a bit more.
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