you... you really don't come
against these men,
with self-help restrictions
on *******...
   simply, because, why?
a pregnant woman *******
will find enough viewership
compared to one man
doing a slacker's ***** scene...
you want to give these men
up to castrato ergonomics,
without giving them a harem
or an operatic status?
      if you don't have what you like...
you begin to like,
  what you have...
    and if it's a hand
entombed in imitation
****...
   then you go along with it...
    you watch one mediocre ****
movie...
then revert to instilled ****
of an equivalence of a magazine...
      the more soft-core you go...
the more south-paw you become...
write with the right hand,
******* with your left hand...
or sit on your right hand
for half an hour, wait for the numbing
effect...
  and conjure a succubus...
because women jerking off
is no problem...
but when a man does it?
hell! no videos!
                  but someone like
a canadian psychologists...
oh wait... psychologists
have no no psychiatric authority
to prescribe drugs / mingle
with the pharmacological community?
so...
       what's with the talking?
might as well ensure the full potency
of the transgender movement...
instead of making me castrato
of the vatican library of psalms,
make me the gatekeeper to what
would otherwise be a *****,
in a Arabian harem...
                **** **** ****!
yeah... but no bulgarian ***** would
do that to me...
  she'd oil up with ****** cream
on the *****...
   unlike that Boer south african lass
with a dry 'un...
               oysters... minus
the lemon juice gulped down...
"alt right"... women are good
for jerking off... walking ******
like pinl floyd's hammer march
for another brick in the wall...
but men doing it?
                  b'aaaah b'aaaaah bad!
fair enough... but the base case
of ownership...
    petting cats is already tedious,
dogs rank 2nd...
  women? rank 1st...
                  if it is unusual to receive
compliments, attention,
a benevolent format of subscription
for a later date of impacting
the intact relationship?
             no... not really...
rather lick a ******* hot light bulb
and pretend to be
    transmitting a genius idea...
when there isn't one...
             i love the idea of woman...
from primary school,
through secondary school,
and in the odd instance of university...
but outside of said schematic?
this photogenic wedding endeavor?
      any sour apples?
     piquant types...
              neon green granny smiths?
god, i'd love to...
        but...
             sometimes in one's life
there are things akin
to the great wall of Hoisin...

                and i'm not really into virgins,
or the 20th part of sloppy seconds
either...
  unless within the confines
of transparency of a brothel...
    she can be as much of a *****
as she is...
   but when a lie is posited
on the chessboard of the architecture
of relationships?
      
                don't bother;
it's an ingrained defiance -
      to what was already defined
in poetic terms...
   as the Satanic lie -
   man? sinless -
                primordial burden, without
a scathe...
              a lie has the potency
        to become worse than homicide...

as i've learned...
when a woman doesn't love you,
she lies...
   she entices with entrapment...
   and when you're not enticed,
dumb, fooled,
auxiliary methodology is employed...
you private life...
   is somehow... questionable
by third parties...
   of people you once considered
to be friends...
            but that's beside the point...
you return to the mantra
encompassing the entirety of
humanity with 2 words:

plow along...
            plow along...
          
     within the same instance...
of a world... so large and unbecoming...
shrinking to your narrative...
focusing on an eye of a needle.