Orgasm

I write like a demon from a haze of naïveté

Cobbling together stones from the cobalt of life

I’m in a white oxford button-up and clean jeans

I look younger than I am, plus I have no wife

Ah, I’ve spilled ink on my shirt again

How clumsy!

(I’m just a man, a man)

Are you sure it’s better to follow you in there

To your bedroom?

Sure, tell me, ya like suspense or ya like action?

Oh, I’m flexible! It all swings along to your mood

It erected to me easily, to hang such a tall passion

I apologize for every time I came off a bit rude

If you want me

You’ll have to take me bound

(Cream, it rises, it rises, still She rises!)

Said if you want me

You’ll have to take me bound

(Cream, it rises, it rises, still She rises!)

Come on, come on

Come on, come on

Come on baby

Do you hear me?

You have to take me bound

Mine’s a bravura whose clothes are for the lore

My face conceals rare diamonds underneath

Have you ever left a body—of art—unexplored?

I’m like the invisible man, flashing you white teeth

Ah, I’ve spilled my ink onto my shirt again, my God

To the boudoir!

(I’m just a man, a man)

Hm? Are you sure it’s better to follow you in there

…Monsieur?

Yeah…

Come on, tell me—what do you like to read?!

I have quite the erection, it oscillates to my mood!

To emit such an eruption, endowed to me readily!

I apologize for every time I seminated you rude

If you want me?

You’ll have to turn me around (I come alive, alive)

Said if you want me

You’ll have to turn me around (I come alive, alive)

Come on, come on

Come on, come on

Come on baby

If you want me

You’ll have to take me bound

Proust, Borges, and Nabokov too!

Don’t treat them rough; treat ’em like they’re really new!

Like they can still make bank; like high culture isn’t through!

Why? Come on, come on!

Look at Murakami

Look at Murakami

Look at Murakami

Woah, oh, oh, ye-e-e-eah

Come on, tell me—BDS or One Direction?!

Oh I’m bendable, I take my clothes off when I’m with brood

Wit’s my beauty slippin’ you a coquettish misdirection

I apologize for every time I crunked at ya a bit crude

Come on, tell me—what’s your favorite proscription?!

I have quite a collection; it bops along to your mood

It blew to me quite easily before vibrating into conniptions

I apologize for every time I masturbated on ya rude!

If you want me?

You’ll have to turn me around (I come alive, alive)

Said if you want me

You’ll have to turn me around (I come alive, alive)

Come on, come on

Come on, come on

Come on baby

Oh fuck

Oh fuck oh fuck fuck

Holy shit

“Okay, no, can I just watch YouTube? Sorry.”