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Poem: Mansurdity

Feeding your drunk lusty stare
Has become a habit of sorts.
It contorts my inner logic
Until the signs beware abort.

Starving, your Swedish doll dream
she consumes so much your passion.
So let's make believe that she
Was just a passing fashion.

Never mind your old affliction
They can find it sold in fiction.
And those dusty playboy days
See them start to float away?

But you cut me into fractions
Like distant old distractions.
Between the sheets the friction
Be now our new addiction.

Please tell me I can have you
For more than just one day.
To complete your scrambled sentences
In a simple, silly way.

 

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