/lit/ - Literature and Writing

Imagine asking what's stolen my powers, you
Stinking whore, all this endless time,
When you've one black tooth, and when ripe old age
Furrows your brow with wrinkles,
When an ugly hole like a leathery old cow's
Gapes between withered buttocks!
Yet that flabby chest, and those breasts, like the teats
Of a mare, can still excite me,
And that spongy belly, and those scrawny thighs,
Set on those swollen legs.
Bless you, and may masculine figures in triumph
Bear your funeral along.
Let no married woman wander about, weighed down
By rounder fruits than yours.
What if the little works of the Stoics prefer
To nest among silken pillows?
Illiterate sinews stiffen no less, do they:
Bewitched, it droops no less?
Either way to rouse it from a fastidious groin
It's your mouth must labour hard.