why wait

why do we wait on their minds
and muscle, laced with such little imagination
their smooth cactus with phantom spines, that ego,
like a phallus shape in-construction, should be nice
to see it light up; once in a while.

but we keep waiting,
lick ourselves to completion, wear these robes like
invisibility cloaks, let me be shadow,
get by, if you won't let me be star-
get out unalarmed,
with all my marbles, and the dreams, oh
the dreams. let's not forget those whilst i feed the cat

and brush my kinks with hers,
the hairy entanglements like a metaphor to life
and all these compromises, bills and responsibilities.

how is happiness found
amidst such rubbish?