The Stud Syndrome

Passion piles on deeds done in heat, yet not to defeat the sounds ever so discreet of a wanna be who abounds of indiscretion. He smirks and smiles and twirls that lonely hanging curl, deep within squalid contemplation, He thinks about last night and of her begging him to stay. Unreal ! Out loud he laughs at the implication. Gees, they get dumber every day. Those Izzy Pop, geek on geek, fresh nature freaks, needing absolution. High above the clouds of discontent, he sits, heaven sent, in motley aura A condition otherwise known as Meglamania