How boring
it is

when all passion is fled

to w**k off a man

...is a chore!

He moans and he groans
and shakes to the bones

not even knowing
he's on his own

his c**k flying solo

(I eat another Rollo) .

But does he care
(does he f**k)

as long as
your hand or mouth
is 'there'

he doesn't even realise

your mind is
elsewhere

imagining he's
someone else!

Brad Pitt is fit!

At this time of night
he's taking all day

oh come come now!

And when he does
it gets in your hair

as he erupts like a geyser.

Typical geezer!

Bravo! And no
encore!

Hey! What
about me!

Without even
a kiss
he snores himself to sleep

as if I were
his own mechanical whore.

His automaton
w**king machine.

When passion is fled
I don't want to be

in bed

w**king

w**king

yet another
male ego.

I'd rather
w**k me

instead.

Dee Wright

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-all-passion-is-fled-for-w/