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Under Capricorn I feel at rest,
Reflect in torso all my best
Attempts at not destroying,
Not admitting I’m enjoying
My compliance with distension,
Laying out in gutwrenching
Modes of horned surrender –

Dark and slender yes,
It seems my sender has arrived,
Holding weapons to disguise
The clearest of intentions.
Out and looking for a smarter pup
To share disaster with, upp and at
The worship that I’m stuck with,

Always victim to a master of the
Smart arts, the common practice
Of my ruin. Each of my undoings
Done by patching up while moving
Cuts up and down this figured rut
Of boy abandons body, empty and
Unworthy of affection.

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