The pig and his lady

Recitations of something cold
To debase the listener,
It's tasteless...
But then what isn't these days?
More than tacky, hopefully
And more than trash for fun,
Words which fester
As provocative thoughts,
Which may hold more allure than disdain.
Something you might call sick,
Knowing we've all been sick,
And who really learns their lesson
Over a couple of stains..
Another worthless panting
Shame made audible, intention pleasure
The endless moaning of a shagging wife,
Passed around to plenty.
Swinging with the up and coming down and outs,
Back and thro, between disease and come downs
The cock and the scarred place,
Pressing on the big time.
Choking on a broken relationship
Sputter on the cock for your ringed voyeur
Sat masturbating, under weight,
The elephant in the room....
Caught trading spice to escape that cold
Which seems to come, through the companionship
Of those two, made one and alone.
Lusting and bored of the same
Too comfortable to fuck,
Too desperate not to.
The pig and his lady's luck, all caught up
With an open door and ringing phone..
The beauties got her beast
Who'll bring the balls right to her,
Along with that devil on her back
And the stag in his mind.
Just so he can watch her dance like they used to...
Before they knew each-others favourite songs,
Which they've been repeating since their teens.
And she can see him lust like he used to,
Before they knew each-others favourite tricks,
Which they've been repeating since their teens.
So they can look at each-other once again
Like they did before they knew each other...
When the love was still aflame,
And consider it exciting..
Even as the condoms are wearing thin
And the regulars know their names