your lonesome heart

 
the crowned prick of nowhere special plots  
a water downed whiskey type of man
in a dingy bar playing your lonesome heart on repeat
 
while the sow behind the counter
scratches the nits in her hair
screeching Harry the radio is on the fritz
and what will you have Jack?
 
you can't help but notice the crumbs stuck in her whiskers
a more repulsive creature you can't imagine
still, you are lonely and consider inviting her back to your room
 
those big fat sloppy tits might fuck you just right
given the right amount of lube
maybe she'll even fuck you with the pink strap-on--
you carry while on the road away from home
five more bucks she might slap you with it
it's a dirty...no grit, no glory kind of life you're living
 
a perv who settled for nothing much
dreams of lecherous liaisons with Lucy the baby sitter
who kept your fantasy life active  
 
until she cruelly checks her lipstick--
on the back of your balding head
as a big joke for her friends
 
when she gets too close
you rage with a hard-on smelling her
she rushes past you to wretch
fucking bitch you mumble I'll get you
 
then you fumble with your wallet and drop her off
you sure taught her a lesson