Aurelius, father of hungers,
Not just of these now, but all those of the past
Or the present or of years to come,
You long to bugger my beloved.
You make no secret of it.
No sooner are you flirting together
Than clinging to his side and trying everything on.
But to no avail, for I shall poke you with
My devious prick before you stick one in.
If you were self-sufficient when you did it I wouldn’t say a word.
But this is what grieves me, that
My boy is now learning to be needy and thirsty.
So stop, while any glimmer of shame remains,
So you don’t meet your end through buggery.