SC Reflects

SC reflects. The scholars here
develop introspective care
for new ideas. Stone by stone
the gothic walls of reason rise.
Winter drizzles to the bone
while solid thinkers analyze
Love. Even I have brought
my reckless thinking to the grid
of logic. Thus directed, thought
discerned the reptiles in my id
and the hobnails in my superego.
I wondered while a while ago
I'd loved. Ever since I've worn
a guard across my deep concern,
impersonal and rhymed. I saw
myself an object which I knew
awkward, squirming by the law
which regulates my ass into a
mattress. Oh, my spraddled self,
so naked and disgusting then!

I've read the sex books on my shelf
and learned mechanics for my sins.
I knew eight chambers made two hearts
and contemplated lust's twin parts
only. And so my verse went mad
with crazed desire to be a god.
I canonized a metaphor,
Saint Peeping Tom who roosts aloft
observing how a wiggle for my gawky thrills, and thinks me daft
to fuck.

Last winter I disagreed.
I wished my flesh were more refined.
I wanted to install a creed
that lauded my too solid mind.

To melt within the sheets is also
intellectual, and this is what
SC reflects