| Jonathan Berger's Poetry: Poem of the Day |
| THE SEX The sex was not good. The sex was worse than not good – the sex was bad. I never thought I’d say those words – never thought it would be necessary – but it’s true, so true. The sex was bad. I always thought bad sex was like bad pizza – you know, even when it’s bad, it’s good? Not so. I have had pizza that made me sick. Pizza that corrupted my system, a devastating virus leaving me wiped clean and rigid. And now, at this moment, I wish I were eating some bad pizza. What? Oh, yes, I came. And quickly. I came as fast as I could, so I could go. I needed to get out of that wretched place – no offense. I know it takes two to tango – so why are you doing the waltz, while I try to slam? Couldn't you just lie there? It's like every move you make is made to thwart me if you don't want to be here tell me so. The sex… it was bad. It was awful. It was horrible, nightmarish. The kind of thing you could never imagine doing again. Unless… Well… You want to give it a shot? |