I Am, Innocence, Lost In A Mule, Named, Sarah Poem by James McLain

If you stand there slack jawed, what's in a fuse, a box to top?
Does your water whistle, when tea you do make, is it swerve?
Forward in volley the back hand is folly to swank, is the music
you play every day in the ruse.
I confess these words, to use in amusement, in joy for the moment, a thrill and a chill, harmless to dare if you do.....Say it, you will!
Are you proved? ..In the middle and pink?
I am wicked bad, no dad, I'm a male to do is to try, and land on the
moon of your face is grace to us all, let us fall into silk and leaves
in a pile it is swank be word in a coded world to undress..us all.
I confess, I will come hard, I will come fast, I will last, I will be breath
to your sweaty nights that you dream in vain.
I am, wicked bad, a males, confession of sin, for you to deny.......
I only want a flirt to warm my heart, my sin is you.....I stay in your... badness...forever blind...with you to mask...