Balls Deep in Poetry

Warm melted putty
Or cold dried wrinkled peaches.
Balls. So dynamic.

Dreams of a cool breeze
Taunt, tempt me, I fantasize
But skirts aren’t for men.

Sticking to my leg
Makes me notice you, it’s true,
But it isn’t nice.

A wrinkled old man
Sits neath a tall, proud soldier:
Soldier bound to fall…

For sensitive skin
Removal cream is a thing.
Victory is ours

I like smoothness, but

Shaving is too dangerous.

We will find a way.

Sit watching TV
Hand in my pants. Don’t worry:
Just cupping the boys

It is comforting
Knowing you are there always
Everpresent bulge.

I would like to think
The reason there are two is
One would be lonely.