Is it a sin to self gratify,
Until the lower third eye spits glue
All thru the night
Madly repaciously lacivious you

Almost desperate to find
Even when we were warned
Likely to go blind
Symptoms of a hairy Palm

When one can't come close
To transcend or feel
The ethereal bliss that glows
In the love made real,

And there's no one worth it
To waste such sighs,
Is it sinful as unwanted births,
or better to self gratify?