The sex addict predates upon uncertainty,
Vulnerable mothers just out of marriages,
Schoolgirls, virgins,
There's a good supply of them.
There are plenty of other women around,
Who know what they're doing,
But he likes to have the upper hand.
If he gets his hands on you,
It'll be like he's gutting a fish.
You'll know what I mean,
If he gets his hands on you.
He's not very good at glueing things back together.
Like building blocks chiseled & legs prised apart.
The pleasure is from destruction or
Dismantling.
Then he's over that backyard fence like a shot.
I've never seen anybody move so fast,
Leaving you to the dishes
& your tears, at the sink in the kitchen.
For him, you're in the past, in an instant, for him
The illusion of freedom.
He's a forty-year-old naughty little boy.
You can look after him.
He will encourage you, compliment,
Promise you,
Make you feel special,
Lie to you mostly.
He's got a mouth that can make a nipple erect,
That's about it.
Or as my mother once warned me:
'They get that boyish look,
& then all the bullshit comes out.'
You felt uneasy the moment the clichés began
& the room took on its two dimensions.
As he looked at you, through the eyes of an insect
The size of a man.
He would get down & chew you from either end
Whilst you looked on
Thinking, there is my body going into his mouth.
Then he is gone, the blue eyes blank
into the next morning, the next bed.
Into the next hollow world of his non-participation.
The standard phrases & responses
Learnt off by heart & by practice
in the brothels.
He can't help himself.
Don't think you can.
You could try being a sucker by listening
To lies & piss-weak excuses.
There's a whole sad pile of them lined up,
Like your clean sheets over his head,
Above his snoring.
With you curling in around his sleeping shape,
Which is the centre of the cosmos.
Your love life now a satellite, simply circling.
Look out for him & be prepared to share.
It's many women at a time,
& he's capable of protecting 'his supply.'
All just acquaintances, or friends,
Nothing you can prove.
Always something you can't quite put your finger on.
Because 'oh but he's really nice,'
Apart from his little problem, his sex addiction.
Just how does he get away with it?
The relationship in two dimensions.
If it's what you want - go ahead.
Better practice safe sex,
At the very least with a condom.
Don't feel too much at the same time.
Sex with you is really without you.
Sex with you
Is like going for a crap, having a smoke or eating
Some chocolate.
It's all down pat - then he is distracted.
We can prevent this virus
From continuing to replicate,
By not competing
With other vulnerable women,
For his kind of affection.
By non-participation,
By not being sucked in,
By thinking of ourselves & by thinking of our children.
Besides he never looks at you,
With the intensity you really require
& avoids kissing you on the lips.
Whilst you'd hoped he would fall in love with you.
Didn't you?
It's a funny world.
Later, we must laugh about it.
He whispered all the words he guessed you wanted to hear
As he progressed.
You are his for a moment,
To test the boundaries & to manipulate.
To explore the terrain,
Ears now, to mouth now, to breasts now to cunt.
& all this effort
& morality lost
Just for a fuck.
It's a bit embarrassing when you stop to think about it.
You'd better stop, because he won't.
He's got a few diseases to pass on.
One moment is real,
The next is forgotten.
He is as empty as land gutted by fire.
You have inhaled & are full of ash.
Unfulfilled, left out in the cold & getting angrier by the minute.
But it doesn't matter.
Really, you're just wasting energy.
He won't change, so let it go.
Some hills are greener than this one, believe me.
He tucks his guilt trip in behind him
Like an unironed shirt.
Easily distracted,
He is leaving for the next situation,
Blue eyes as blank as sky in the morning.
More than prepared to leave you crying.
The full-blown sex addict turns out the lights,
When you want them left on,
Is faster than a speeding cliché,
More powerful than a broken condom,
Able to leap backyard fences in a single bound.
