men.
they're pigs.
you're mother knows,
because your father is.

they love you when they want you,
love to lick your lips
and when they're good
they separate them with their tongues.

men lie.
they come back for more
because they hate rejection.
when you love them they can feel it,
when they touch you they already see
you can't say no.
when you shiver in their hands
they have directions for your tremble.

men cheat because
the turn-on is always in
the chase. when it's killing him,
it's working. when you're dying
it's tired.

don't ever tell a man
when you love him sincere.

they're all the same,
filthy phalluses with smooth conversation
and a five o'clock shadow.

they'll tell you about their mothers
and smoke their cigarettes in their slippers
and their disaffectedness is your fire.

and when they're fucking you,
you can munch their cocks and
hump on top and beg them
to come all over you, and they might like it fine,
but the truth is you can just lay there
while they're pumping your cunt and grunting
like animals and all you have to do is whisper their name
punch it out like exaggerated breath.
the ego is the dick and you stroke it with your validation.

and if it's good, they'll turn around and have a smoke
and pass out before you can decide if it was good for you.

but it was.

you know it was.


because really,
show me a man
with honesty and good intentions,
soft eyes and easy understanding.
a man who can cry to you about how much he needs you,
and who always shows up when he says he will...

and i'll fucking hate that pussy bitch
and end up sleeping with his best friend
who didn't hold the door for me at dinner.

10/06/2006

Posted on 10/06/2006
Copyright © 2024 Lauren Singer