He wore his bleeding heart on his sleeve
this fretting Adam on a log with Eve.
He left her on tiptoe, lonely and bereaved
(he was, I mean
and she was left swimming
in everything
she believed)
The growth industry of retailed listening skills
those gently manufactured self made cures for self made ills
the kind that make you reach for alcohol and pills
foundered. They were flawless
and boundless…
but he couldn’t pay
the fucking bills.
Bill stepped shining out of an ad for sex by phone
the contact was made, he made Adam his clone
and chained him screaming in the basement of his home
made kind of love. The boy
did well….grew to like
being rubbered stretched and owned.
Adam grew old. Eve and the kids were gone.
His hair was greying
and Bill in his terror often went out playing.
Adam looked for God by kneeling down and praying
but he didn’t apologise
and soon found
he was
still paying.
The Lord in black leather later met him in a pub,
said “Let’s have more sleaze, I’ll take you to a club…”
The Lord asked: “Giver or taker?”….ah there’s the fucking rub!
Adam dozed and dreamed
of the erstwhile once-upon-a-time-long-gone…
he smiled at days no longer halcyon
days when when young girls might have called him Dom
but now
he was clearly
Sub.