This is my,
To the sex topic,
At this station,

For years I never understood,
Why do that?,
Why did he keep,
Turning his back,

My swimmers had never developed,
Nor did the other sensations,
It was just a ritual,
A dark station,

It was only when,
My swimmers said hi,
Like synchronised swimmers,
Telling me about this guy,

Telling me the secret,
He was hiding behind his posturing,
Stopping me seeing,
His swimmers were exiting,

They were leaving,
The station that this guy made,
Leaving to one day,
Tell the secret that he hid away,

Gym showers where a nightmare,
I was taught that when with other males,
North is the direction of,
The natural stuff with pals,

But this direction was a secret,
So how can I stop my body from laying bear,
So much confusion,
So much despair,

I thought of a solution,
While I was young,
Just stay away from people,
So you don't become unspun,

This obviously cannot be,
A long term thing,
People wanted to know,
What I was hiding,

I made all sorts of excuses
When I had girlfriends,
Not to let him out,
Not to let him get the benz,

I gave in,
He was so thirsty,
Of course there would be pressure,
On a Club 18-30,

I was seduced,
And she wasn't a Barbie,
A hefty girl she was,
Looking for sporty,

She had lots of energy,
And I was pissed,
Can't remember much,
But some I didn't miss,

If you painted me orange,
And gave me pointed ears,
A school boy toy I become,
She road me like I had gears,

Think I lost weight,
Just from being rollered,
Like flakey pastry,
Ready to be ordered,

I don't remember the middle,
Or the end,
I just know I made it back,
To the UK homeland,

I could not connect,
What should be white and black,
Like a lego track it should be,
Choo chooing along the track,

Emotions and sex are what I am talking about,
In my roundup,
I can't find the track segment,
To join the two things up,

The train track is in my parents loft,
Hmmm.. I think I know where it is,
To get me through this snow,
I need to lift it,

Lot's of old memories in that loft,
It's not a nice place for me to sit,
When I am there I seem to think about,
All the hidden shit,

One day I'll pull the ladder down,
Pop up and get the track,
With all the bloody station,
And pat myself on the back,

Oh ok just a few more lines,
It's difficult to stop,
What I have started,
Just like chocolate,

Humour is a cover,
I know when I do it,
Just to soften the shite,
While I share it,

Binoculars I had,
Huge they were,
Unemotional sex I looked for,
All through the calendar,

Chocolate Weetabix I am eating,
While I do this bit,
Little Lee is here,
Giving me a kick,

He wants to say something,
But heís too upset,
Heíll save it for another poem,
Another film set,

Big Lee here again now,
Wanting to say some more,
About my life,
And my closed door,

Time has past,
I am 44 years,
But you could count my partners,
On my ears,

I always did the exit,
Donít touch I needed,
Whatís a partner suppose think,
So they heeded,

If I started sex,
Then that would be ok,
But God help them if they pressed the start button,
In anyway,

I am on a healing journey,
And want to give,
The start button to someone,
And try to live,

Edited by Lee Jenson (08/06/12 05:50 PM)