I'm hurting folks,
You all heard it here first.
I am a victim of biology,
Somebody please, castrate me,
Because I can't control the chemical cocktail swirling around inside my male brain, lifting me up just to drown me in pain.
Testosterone uses all the data on my phone, and fuels the fire that keeps me alone, because I've been pushing rocks up a hill,
hoping I'd get just the slightest thrill
from a girl who will only consent
If I was the only man present.
And to think I wasted all that lotion,
Thinking she would share this emotion. What a waste of 1080P! Masturbating to the feeling of being more than physical when I could have logged on to the pinnacle
of pleasure that I use to measure my stature with women in a world of fantasy that so easily appeals to me, because I am a man, and damn does it suck to be stuck on a fling when I'm not getting off so easily watching quality adult entertainment, my mind is stuck on a girl who won't ever claim it was me who made her heart sing.
She won't ever speak of my impressing bone structure,
because she could care less that I even fucked her. Hit it and quit it? Is that what they say? No thank you I'd rather pay
For a subscription that renews every month.
YOU ARE READING
Thresheld
PoetryMy life is a series of thresholds that I overcome through poetry. Love, loss, pain, regret, humor, irony, word play, and even sarcasm are as much apart of my life as they are central to my poems here. I am Thresheld. UPDATE: It's been quite a few ye...
