Grating In The Lock

Your pass-key grates in my lock: opening,
This door discloses my dark entry-hall,  
I'm not lighting it up: your spunk won't bring  
New life; your mushy odours will not fall  
Upon my moistened senses - just depart,  
My inner self is shut; don't seize my wrist;  
Don't thrust in feeble to the last; don't start!  
Just be dissatisfied: un-fucked, un-kissed;  
 
I'll not serve you with fealty, nor escort  
You through the cobbled streets across my town;  
Don't take my hand; don't pretend you will do  
Dynamic things when I am tired and down;  
I wish you far away and me in bed -  
Alone, of course; yes - you can read my eyes!  
Don't stammer ruefully; patience has fled;  
Please understand and do not be surprised;  
 
You are dismissed, you git, and this door-step  
Just longs to see you go; this night's not good  
Enough for me to give ground nor to let  
You have your ugly way, and seek to flood  
My cunt with dribbled ecstasy, that worms  
Its way into your mind, as a cascade  
Of lust and luscious love, because it turns  
You on to think your potency can't fade;  
 
Don't stay to collect a pension, it's all gone  
And you can go as well - yes, just fuck off;  
I do not give a toss that you still long  
For someone half your age, for every soft  
Crevice I might afford you: there's no chance  
That I still want your bony hands to shock  
Me from complacency; you want to dance?  
Well, there's the street, go jig; you laughing stock.