am i not an orangutan?

am i not an orangutan?
with a face like an ass
and an ass like a face
 
my orange blush
permanent with shame
exposed to anyone willing to look
 
[if a face blushes in the woods...is it ever seen?]
 
why is the innate so shunned?
why must our rawness hide beneath covers in back seats
behind smiles wringing droplets of pleasure from the rag of politeness
why oh why are kind words and a prim stance  
a substitute for the stroke of the cock
 
[nice to meet you...[rub rub rub] and i see you are happy to meet me…]
 
why not a fondle instead of a high five
for those that would want such a thing
 
who would not want such a thing?
 
ok ok  
over the top
 
but what about watching?
observing
allowing the big reveal too soon after hello
instead of ‘nice to meet you’ -> ‘take off your clothes and kneel on the floor’’
 
ok ok
that too
over the top
 
but i am an orangutan!
you need not visit my zoo
but peer into its mind
hear, no - just know  
that hidden inside miles of optic pipe
running through deep tunnels
across valleys and beneath homes
bubble effervescence mumbles
waiting for your fingers to click
your ‘intent’ if only a hint
 
dig with your xray mind to see the zeros and ones scampering beneath your feet
sending minds reeling with the freedom
to suffer a prescription to bear
 
aren't words just vowels
stuffed between letters
a code to be mangled
and tangled
in clouds of grey matters
 
i am an orangutan i tell you!
and i stroke in my cave
behind a tree
peeking out through forests of pixels  
climbing monkey bar stanzas
hooting unfulfilled groans
searching for someone who enjoys the word ‘no’
 
why are lips so reluctant to utter?
fingers so restrained to hit below H and above L?
to send out their drones
to clobber all hope of relief
 
 
we push red buttons on games
and send missiles aflight
strike heads with hand cannons to rack up our might
we drive rendered cars with great dexterity and speed
crush candy and send birds
to a death no pixelized version  
of anything ever needs
 
do we not realize  
what drama we hold more dear?
 
though i beg and i ache
for such little ‘intent’
please: just be aloofness on purpose

oh, sigh...so rarely granted
 
what aspect of human
of those who submit
is so precious  
that Kombat with Mortals
is finer  
more cordial
than ‘rub because i said’?