Feedback from a dying friend

Soothe the young man's sweating forehead
Touch the naked stem held hidden there
Safe in such dark hayseed wired nest
Then his light brown eyes are quick
Once touch is what he thought was grip
'Tis not his hands those there, but mine
And, safe, my hands do seek to gain
All knowledge of my master's manly reign
The scented taste that stills my tongue
Is wrong that is set, but not undone
His fiery eyes can slash my savage skin
And force all seriousness away
He wades in close waters
Deep sleep alters his senses
I must obey my only rival
He will command our twin revival
The same insane sustain again
(The two of us so close to our own hearts)
I silenced and wrote