Faltering
I flail
and fail
in indulging
frivolous frivolity;
I cannot comprehend.
Casual conversation
causes me cranial confusion,
to rudely rule my unruly head.

In fact;
to be percise
yet clinically concise;
I speak cold hard truth
in rigid Vulcan tones.

While wistful words whiz wishfully
from each to each
playfully pinching potential
pretty playmates,
I remain aimlessly alone
leaning against erected empty walls
obscurely observing onerous
rituals outside my knowing.

Here
Evolution dead-ends
this lineage.
I am unable to
spontaneously spew
symbolically spawning
majestic masculine
magical mutterings
utterly overwhelming
ultimately unveiling
your unstoppered uterus
indulging in this
genetic compulsion
to find golden eggs.

I am a child
wanting to be a man.

It is National Novel Writing month – and well I don’t write Novels but I do try to write novel poetry. One a day for November!