The Search

Through continuous cunts
searching for
that one pressure sensitive
moment of thrust—
forever lost !

Not an inability to commit
but to connect—
with the right tissue.
Not duped or misled.

Curse those past forbidden moments
when innocent touches lasted
and were considered adequate,
as we rode on the crossbar of hope.

A feast of appetizers—
only beginnings.
Contiguous foreplay empty of conclusions.
Perpetual penetration.
Thinking of the next intercourse.
Where is continence?
Mechanical sex directed by urge.
A blur of faceless bodies
and no focus.
Insatiable sex.
I am weary and worn.
Enough is enough.
Remove all the vowels
from my words
and string them in the universe
until I find her—
aa eee iiii ooooo uuuuuu !
Expressed from the masculine point of view.