Poetry Is Pornography

Well, is this poem doing it for you? Should I dress it up in black lace and garters and shakily strut my stuff in haughty heels for your emotional ********? Just what I thought, a pathetic poetry pervert, another silent stalker eavesdropping in the thick midnight, snooping through shameful shadows (hold on while I reapply the crimson lipstain) Oh, you like it like that? I’ll do whatever you need to get you to feed and suck on this saccharine heroin Here, let’s get it over with Slide the drapes closed will you? Under darkness, over muffled traffic come crawling wet mouth sounds . . . That’s right I just caught you gawking in shock at the silhouette moaning my depravity What, are you done? Then roll back over and let me shake in your vacant silence.