Night dreams, morning dreams!
Babyish, child-like, a man seems!
Touches provoking genital streams!
Eyes of man, banjo beams!
Blind eyes on fleshy mounds
Stir protrusion in clothed grounds,
And silky homes turn battlegrounds,
Oh no, oh yes, several rounds.
Where I love I last not,
Beatrice begs I lick her pot.
Feelings absent, I shoot a lingering shot
But dame wants forever in her spot.
Miserable is the man on his own,
Nice but secret films on his phone,
Walks Ikoyi, Egbeda in pheromonal cologne
But sadly his dreams, he waters alone.