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Abstract

eeling joy’s loss.</p><p id="73f1">You cut his sweet strings, doubting ideas of love. A playground of boys.</p><p id="3c08">Copyright <a href="undefined">CMad Poet</a> 2021</p><div id="1cea" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/poina-cats-6e681184c604"> <div> <div> <h2>Poina Cats</h2> <div><h3>The Kai Malo’o beach cliffs inadvertent camping adventure.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*IJaHxD2aXXT3bmQe)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="c330" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/50-years-later-d0c28d9170d2"> <div> <div> <h2>50 Years Later</h2> <div><h3>Thinking over the last 50 years of my life, changing, growing, and finding myself.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*MiwlbqxMSRL0IYVu)"></div>

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      <a href="https://readmedium.com/unspent-time-b63de5d2a61b">
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            <h2>Unspent Time</h2>
            <div><h3>The shift from income to survive to income to live.</h3></div>
            <div><p>medium.com</p></div>
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    </div><h2 id="f742">Christopher Madsen (CMad Poet), author of the Limerick books:</h2><p id="7b70"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Ice-Cream-Breakfast-Mondays-Collection/dp/B08MGSZ2LP/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&amp;keywords=christopher+madsen&amp;qid=1630859222&amp;sr=8-1">Ice Cream for Breakfast on Mondays</a> and <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Tacos-Brunch-Tuesdays-limericks-pantoums/dp/B08P4BH3SY/ref=sr_1_6?dchild=1&amp;keywords=christopher+madsen&amp;qid=1630859222&amp;sr=8-6">Tacos for Brunch on Tuesdays</a></p><h2 id="04a6">Join Medium as a member to help support my work and the creative voice of other independent authors.</h2></article></body>

The Playground

Adult costumes get discard within a partnership

I’m off in my head, imagining your form, performing lust’s porn.

Each animal thrust a taboo door I explore empty in our bed.

You’re in my mind, exploited with fantasy. My slut puppet whore.

Your bodies a tool, I focus on sensation. Break eruption’s peak.

Selfish, I quicken, climbing a mountain alone. I leave you behind.

My distant gaze holds curves of your stolen image, guiding an orgy.

Dopamine galore, I’ve escalated past bliss, expiring to rest.

My privileged love, discarding you to the floor. Silence you endure.

Failure to worship, disconnected from his cock. Selfish little boy.

Annoyed and abused you finish, then leave the room, feeling joy’s loss.

You cut his sweet strings, doubting ideas of love. A playground of boys.

Poina Cats

The Kai Malo’o beach cliffs inadvertent camping adventure.

medium.com

50 Years Later

Thinking over the last 50 years of my life, changing, growing, and finding myself.

medium.com

Unspent Time

The shift from income to survive to income to live.

medium.com

Christopher Madsen (CMad Poet), author of the Limerick books:

Ice Cream for Breakfast on Mondays and Tacos for Brunch on Tuesdays