Spilt Vodkas

Her fake tan is rubbing off onto my jeans
helped on its way by countless spilt vodkas
this is no lipstick on the collar
sadly it’s just friendship

she’s crying that she’ll never be loved

that her drinking will kill her

that she’s going crazy

no different to any other girl on a Friday night
 
she’s already loved

but I’ll never make her spill vodkas

and that’s the drama she craves

all I can do is put my shot glass next to hers

rejection on a daily basis
even unsaid
is enough to kill a man’s soul

I tell her I have to go

she seems distressed

but it’s not borne from any longing desire

which is why I HAVE to go

and scrub the St Tropez from my denim.

Torture

Working in an office full of women is any man’s hell

the sense of humours are too different

you have to throw endless caution to the wind

and the worse thing is that you can’t stare

scrub that

the worst thing is that my desk faces the filing cabinet

all day I’m subjected to temptation

there’s bending over

relentless wiggling

this could truly be any man’s heaven

but there’s constantly female eyes watching me from behind

“That Benny’s a real pervert” they’d whisper

“He was looking down the back of your low slung trousers” they’d tell

I can afford the quickest of glimpses

from the very corner of my straining eye

but the frustration kills me

it’s worse than nothing at all

I need to move desks.

Chores

I tell her that I’ll take the rubbish out later

for now there’s football and wine

I go to get some cheese

she blocks my way

yells that later is too late

I’ll disturb the neighbours

like they never make noise

fucking all hours

what I wouldn’t do to go down there whilst he’s out

I begin to get a semi

realise I’m in the middle of an argument and lose it

damn

I tell her “Ok! Ok! I’ll take rubbish out”

she walks off victoriously

I go straight to the fridge

grab the cheese and head back to the TV

this is the life

wine, cheese and sport

if only that blonde from downstairs was here too

I hear footsteps go to the kitchen

the silence of exasperation is deafening

she storms in demanding to know why I lied

I tell her it can wait

I won’t wake the neighbours

she can’t judge me by her own noisy standards

look how many plates you crack or chip compared to me

that last statement dives like a whale

a long list of forgotten chores is read off to me

I tune out after a while as there’s an important free kick in the game

she’s staring at me expectantly

if I don’t give a decent answer now then I’m sleeping on the sofa

but what’s she been saying?

That damn sofa is too small for me

I look out the window for hope

I find it

the blonde from downstairs is putting out her rubbish

“Ok! Ok! I was wrong. I’ll put the rubbish out” I say

right answer

she walks off victoriously

I rush to the bins

chat to the blonde

she’s split up with that dick who fucks her

my semi returns.

Forbidden Lover

It’s 2 a.m and I’m on my way to see my forbidden lover she pounds the dirty backstreets of my mind does things that most girls would slap me for asking but her looks will never soothe my ego that’s why she remains a drunken rendezvous usually it would take me an hour to stumble this far but the sexual energy cuts through the drink I’m making good time does she cry herself to sleep when I leave or is that just my arrogance talking? perhaps it's her using me as an idiot with a hard cock because I’m certainly that we could be very happy together she makes me feel like a degenerate the only girl who’s managed that but this is a small town what would my friends say? I mean, she’s beautiful when she comes that screwed up face flushing imperfect breasts heaving completely lost to the passion no wonder I come so hard with her my insecurities may mean I’m lonely forever but who wants to compromise? she certainly doesn't she's got me - a real prince! these thoughts have done little to slow me down before I know it she’s answering the door wearing nothing but a t-shirt I press the palm of my hand against her pussy my middle finger lying perfectly in between her lips she gasps and arches her head back for now I'm hers.

Forgotten Woman

She is the forgotten woman stranded on the sexual sidelines her demeanour keeps her there crafted by bitchiness and bullying it stops her feeling human the only release is to pleasure herself dreaming of what it’s like to let go to feel a writhing, twisting body on top filling her with passion passion she longs to reciprocate if only society would accept her just for one day as a living, breathing, horny being she’d overcome that hurdle of doubt be able to tell men to fuck her like every woman should bring life to her soul instead of tears to her eyes she needs to deny her design for life stop masturbating let the frustration begin to kill her then snare a man any man they’re all easy then this tragedy will end and many more will begin.