all the girls are empty, without men. <br />all the girls are empty, without the cocks to fill them. <br />we wander around with our holes— <br />void of all substance, duty, or love, <br /> <br />without the cocks to crown us. <br /> <br />the woman without a sense of purpose, <br />a sense of worth: <br />she wanders around incomplete <br />without the cock to complete. <br /> <br />without the penises to fill us, <br />we drip wet with our soaked vaginas, <br />needing that hard cock to close us <br />to keep us steady, sane—leveled. <br /> <br />sprawled upon the sheets of some <br />modern beau’s bed <br />thinking—“Thank God, <br />I have a sense of purpose.”<br /><br />s./j. goldner<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sense-of-purpose/
