Astronaut Dots

Astronaut dots cover the bed
as I awake and look for my head.
Alone again and time for work
searching for pants, keys, and purse.

Did I ride a horse nine hours
of sleep last night
Nine, he rode me.
I never put up a fight.

Hoping the memories
would return, sore
glutes and mammaries
do explain

what happened the night
that you turned thirty
stays rent free,
inhabitant is dirty.

Cereal offender.
You are not my friend,
I may not remember,
though my muscles resend

messages of adversary,
feels of slavery.
Moments of lust
An unengaged minatory.

And no one noticed a thing.