He pays for sex, because he has needs,
and screw the law--
men are pigs anyway.
Oh and what he pays--
he doesn’t want a beast of paw--
his mumbling sex squeeze needs
rock tits, be lanky with swinging beads,
and he wants her close to new,
call him a pig. Anyway,
they'll do the deed any way
he chooses, even raw,
because he has needs
for penile sensitivity. His brain breeds
out of emptiness, it grows
more so each screw he does any way
any day he finds a whore to play
this fake love game, oh holy cow
he’s a cash runt of guilt who needs
to believe all men are pigs. Anyway...
Marc Darnell is an online tutor and custodian in Omaha NE, and has also been a phlebotomist, hotel supervisor, busboy, editorial assistant, farmhand, devout recluse, and incurable brooder. He received his MFA from the University of Iowa, and has published poems in The Lyric, Rue Scribe, Verse, Skidrow Penthouse, Shot Glass Journal, The HyperTexts, Candelabrum, The Road Not Taken, Aries, Ship of Fools, Open Minds Quarterly, The Fib Review, Verse-Virtual, Blue Unicorn, Ragazine, The Literary Nest, The Pangolin Review, and elsewhere.
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