Christopher Michael, gay, gay poetry, homosexual, lgbt, queer

Little Boy Lost

Little Boy Lost
I ain’t never been one to sell my ass, ‘cept when I gave
That man blow jobs so he’d buy me clothes, an’ drugs,
A place to live, take me to Café Figaro so’s I could eat,
Play cards all night, so’s not to have to pay that
Nasty piper and suck on the limp lollipop, that ain’t the
Same thing as sellin’ my ass for a bag or a bed, I ain’t’
Never done that, I’ve been a whore my whole life, taking,
Using, buying, selling my soul to get by, or I’d steal
From you—anything so’s you’ll love me, take care of this
Wretched tired ass, but that don’t work no more, cuz
I ain’t got no ass to sell ‘cept this tired fucked up old
Wrinkled thing, who wanna buy that for a crappy $10?
Not no one wanna buy some limp dick for a bad blow job
Just to get off, I don’t need your filthy money to live,
I got me my own, when it gone, I’m gone cuz I don’t be
Wanting to stay here all that much Longer with the poverty
Knockin’ at my door, with them sad ass droopy eyes,
Empty ass eyes, I don’t wanna be no old thing at 93
Wearing them diapers, not knowin’ if I shit or I just stink
Cuz I can’t shower, no that ya hear?
I ain’t gonna let that happen, ya hear, ya fuckers wanna
Live til ya be a crypt, walking coffin not know who ya are
Needin’ some youngie to feed you, crumbs dribbling down
Your lips, that It? That it? No I ain’t gonna sell me no ass to get
By, I know where the exit is, ya makes a state while ya here,
Ya leaves ‘em laughing, graceful exit out that door.
What next? Who cares, long as it ain’t this no more.


3 thoughts on “Little Boy Lost

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s