Gotta Love Getting Dingerz

One must address that dress causing stress in avenues I rarely feel pressure in.
I may be a man,
Yes!,
But,
I respect myself enough to never give in.
Being a player’s player,
A Pimp with honeys cradled under both arms as a man seeking prayer?
Is just,
An equivalence to a man attempting to stand next to God as a naysayer…

Yet,
I’d be deceitful if I said you weren’t so voluptuous.
Seductive with bewitching eyes I gaze into as I ponder who put you up to this!
This,
Grand larceny of lust most confuse with love,
Coercing me to choose a night of lucid,
Copulation…

All for what?
Because,
When I get dingers,
Never are they for a siren with a screech ringing bells squandering my obligation,
To rise from a set of bed sheets with more “rizz” than ever before!
Before I’m zombified by her bras and laces…
Her lips?
More poisonous than every drug Mankind was laced with…

Making it to home base became different ever since I was left for lacking diamonds.
Even if I already was one buried in my own debris while fighting!
My way out of an Abyss others watched me cry in…
What I need?
Is,
Not another night where we intertwine and climax.
But,
Another friend who won’t be afraid to ever grab my hands…

If I ever fall again…