Ode to Men – Nov. 2008

Ode to Men

It all seemed the same

(it really couldn’t change)

only quickies, I guess,

even if not,

and not that many, actually,

and I always got something

whether money or dinner

(though I prefer money)

or a ride home

and the self-deluding

consolation that

I’m just like other girls,

and who’s to say I’m not?

I didn’t feel anything,

bad or good

I often couldn’t tell

(do I realize?)

they’re inside at first,

it didn’t affect me

or bother me, really,

but their release is my relief too

And they could do

whatever they want to me

wherever they want on me

in any way they want

for I’m very flexible

and can be bent

and stretched and pulled

and twisted and warped

and nothing hurts

(and I prefer not having to see them)


except demean me

or debase me

above all on my face

(why do some girls?)

and the more of them

at once gives me

space from them all

but their coarse tongues

and rough touch

and ugly members

had no chance of

awakening me

so nothing lingers for me

and pleasure is absent

so no meaning appears

and thus no sense of shame

or sin

I just receive them

but not be there




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