Sex is no good
They need submissions
How to propel love out of home
Shy drape, half drawn kiss
Wet corridors of innocent pales
They know.

Their trickery wounds
Wrecks soul, unheals tissue
Pins, pricks
Dread in polite eyes
That’s lust
For those morbid them
They moan.

I am a harmless man
Live in ‘sorry’, ‘thank you’
See them surrounding me
When lonely,
Distraught, plain wishful.