Before I get into it
I'd just like to say
I don't mean to offend
Anyone, anyway.

This topic is passionate,
And this topic might be rude.
But I want to express my discontent,
This is my vent
At those who've lent
Their bodies and spent
the emotional equivalent
Of a ten
cent
piece
To get a piece of another

The scene of the poem
Is a place that you've known
A regular neighborhood with regular teens,
Regularly up to no good.

The setting a party,
You hear the music and laughing
As you approach from an infinitely vague location
Maybe somewhere more respectable than this ?
Yes, that will do quite nicely.

Passing the rusty chain link
You can't help but think
What's on the other side
Of this societal divide?

This is what you will find.

A lover's embrace,
Hormone fueled race,
Intimacy rising at phenomenal pace

They roll on the floor
So definitely sure
That what they are doing is truly best for

Clothes, absent
All from a hint
Sober selves knowing of the short-winded stint

But In singularity
Of momentary calamity
Pair of immorality, lust sexuality, alcohol casualty

This the limit to which memory spent
Of a regular teen out to get bent
Worries or questions their brain had not sent
Though sharing closeness of sexual extent

For this was just another Friday night
Have some booze, have some food
'Can I borrow a light?
Soar from this encounter a relation takes flight.

Fast food, instant internet, momentless messaging
It seems that we teens are tired of waiting
As is the one subtly baiting
Into a mind the thought of meaningless mating

All it takes is a blink
To miss a sculled drink
The brains are subdued
The Lust shuns the think

Night moves on, similarly paced
Lovers to be running their race
As the noise control are called to the place
They come face to face under a blanket of bass

And the rest is history.

The law will not stand against aforesaid events
To all involved happenings seem to make sense
Both were consensual through the brown bottle lens
Twas how they both wanted their evenings spent

So why do I write of a subject like this?
If not to scold, laugh or plain take the piss?
Because the one thing that we teens all seem to miss is
The immense value of love and the gift of a kiss

See, I'm not one for spirits and ghosts
Yet something I hold so close
Aspect of existence I refrain from the most
Is my body of flesh, consciousness host

The thought of my body presentation
Guided by lust for stranger satisfaction
Sharing of intense gratification
With one who I lack identification

It sickens me.

Should not the sharing of flesh,
The literal personality personification
Come as the intimate successor
Of a mutually respectful dedication?

Should not the experience
Of intense pleasure be a measure
Of how glad to be together
A long-standing relationship not as brief as the weather?

Should not lovers entwine
As they both whisper mine
Rather than the use of spare time
Overlaid with the scent of cheap foil pouch wine?

Just my opinion, overall
But I am still appalled
With the willingness to bare it all
With one who will never call
They self degrade their self respect and
Take any opportunity they can get and
Fuck a stranger instead

There is something so wrong in their heads
There's plenty of fish in the sea
But I'm sure it's not just me
Who finds it hard to believe
That so many of the faces around me
Are reeled in so quickly
To arrangements so meaningless.

And to whom in these scenarios
Does my pitiful malcontent go?
Is it to the fish for taking the bait quivering so readily
Or the heartless Fisher dragging so steadily
His catch of the day not to satisfy in any way
The gnawing hunger that should guide him to something real.
But the junk food junkie life cravings that originate
From a perverted stomach between his legs.

You give a man a fuck and he's fulfilled for a day
Teach a man how to love and just perhaps
He'll begin to relapse
On the way he and his chaps
Share tales of who so and so tapped
And try to revert the collapse
of his morality.

I hope he does, for on the most part

Morality equals casualty
In the world of the teen.