The Mouth of the Meat Grindr

I am not your novelty.
Not your fucking fetish.
So, instead of ALL THIS,
go fuck a freshly dead fish.
Send a late night note,
and join my neverending “read” list.
These days,
they all approach,
just long enough to knuckle the glass.
Chuckle at the reaction,
and step back just as fast.
They leave me screaming:
“Come on daddy,
fill me up!
With trauma,
till my milk’s too spilled to fuck,
you,
or any other man.
Standing, just as planned,
in line,
to take a shot at skipping wine and dine.
Go straight for the fragile fruit,
and rip its roots up by the spine.
Now all I can do is reminisce,
’bout when my innocence was mine.