Nursing our exit wounds as usual
Should have sliced it off at 13, he said
Cut the drama, joined the monastery
Yes, I should have done something similar
But it would have resulted in the same
Growing ghost tumours stuffed with dick and tits
Cumming and metastasising over
Another starved soul’s desperate air cream
Replacing God like love does anyway
When we reach 13 and nature touches
And nympho twin clamps herself to the boys
Sweet-and-salty-skinned pumping macho backs
Plodding body leaden into the grave
There’s no discipline to be found, I’ve tried