In you sir
There is the question
Of alpha or beta – on top of the mission
Or beneath her under commission
You sir, determine my swimmers
Their stroke, speed and endurance
After all that sacred spherical island
Is a far far away journey
You sir, determine my endorphins
And my sudden droopiness
When I’m coasting as lover
And disheartened in plough-play
Your sir, are the master
Of how fast I age and how fast I decay
After all, I’m only a man prostrating to you
Not for my own 100m dash
On the tracks of a bed cloth
But for what is left to run
In my own marathon
Of libido miles.


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