It has been years in the desert
Heat stroking
My member
No oasis in sight
No hope for the day
So I stall in the night
Lust no longer giving pleasure
Merely an action
To subdue
My baser emotions
So I go through the motions
Hands on desire
Wiping the sticky rag clean
To cleanse myself
Of the so called obscene

The desert is barren
Lacking any love
The watery red rose
The lips once opened and now closed
Sometimes I miss those lush green fields
Other times I am grateful not to feel

But the desert is always a desert
And sooner or later
Its’ dry heat will ****
All that I have left to feel