I am not interested in your poems about masturbation
Honestly. What’s between you and your fingers should stay there
I don’t care to share how you feel when you come
when you’re coming
I am about as fascinated in your bodily functions
as I am in the inner workings of hypertext transfer protocol
or your spirituality
or porn
The way you stretch your red-slicked mouth
to emphasise each syllable of
clit – or – is
makes me sick
With your asymmetric hair and right-on boots,
reciting from heart, heavy on the pathos
heavy on the poor me, poor girlie dressed woman
leaves me unmoved
I take no pleasure from your self pleasure
your shock does not shock me
I am not interested in you at all
just me.
