who am i to say if the mozzer's lost touch?
what does my rough draft have
that is missing from his manuscript?
nothing. so, i'll sit down here
before the microphone and say,

I promised I wouldn't pitch a fit,
but that was young me, and see,
experiences since then, well,
do you know how hard it is
to find love as a *******?

Somehow, I bet not.
I bet not, somehow.

I promised I'd do what I wanted,
and I have done, and I do,
experiences since then, well,
they've left me longing for you,
longing for touches, eager to please.

I keep my ***** part of me,
as that's what I want.
I keep wishing that someone will
love that part of me.

I'm flaw to the flawless, baby.

Lesbians don't want this.
Gay men don't want it.
Straight women don't want this.
Straight men don't want it.

Somehow, I bet not.
I bet not, somehow.

And tomorrow I might die in hellfire   (where are you?)
dropped from the air or shot from the ocean,    (kiss me.)
I might be a corpse in another war,    (where are you?)
big future fame for the sideline casualty.

Kiss my lips and let me know
my pulse is visible to you.

I can choke myself to please you and I can sink much lower than usual, but there's nothing I can do to make you mine.

"Where literature is concerned,
I will not cooperate at all":
A mind resolutely turned
From the social crusades of fall.

Seventy-eight years later
I agree with the "dilettante";
Twenty-five years cater
To reclusion in a shanty,

"Writing frightening verse
To a straight-toothed dude
In New York." Curse
My reckless solitude!