Don'T Think Too Much Into This Poem Poem by H.J. Shreeve

I wreak of desperate masturbation,
Two days consoling myself,
Trying to find happiness,
In this mundane place,
Dreaming of being warm,
Dreaming of being wet,
Between your extraordinary thighs.
For I was there in gethsemone,
When they took the Nazarene.
He did not kick,
He did not weep,
He rolled over,
Like a spaniel when kicked.
As will I on your return.
Two days of desperation,
Weeping like a lost child,
There's no one to feed me,
No one to help me dress.
When you come home
Don't depend on me,
I don't depend on me,
I am the lost child
Hungry, cold and alone.