What once was an automatic action
of couples, impulses and seduction
has sadly been resigned to a misery
Accusations counter ploys verbally,
Any number of reasons is guilty
in this present age of fast reality
Distractions are also a sly culprit
with hands deep in the pockets
Dicks are sore from inactivity
The privates of women lonely
Frustrations bite their toe nails
What else, when all else fails
And so out comes the black diary
or whatever colour meets a fancy
Sexual dates are penned in ink
which do fail as dates can blink
Now back to the drawing board
which has also become bored
Promises served with a rare smile
Hopes again dashed after awhile
What the fuck is going on?
Is this the gnawing Swan?
Has the curtains been drawn?
Wake me up – please someone
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