This house is full of loneliness

Of sad weary silence

I switch on the television

For some company



Two actors

A man and a Woman

Give exaggerated little moans

As they simulate

A so called stimulating fuck

For my entertainment



Beneath the endless groans

It's not real

It's pretend

Just like we pretended that last time

To make you



Night is the most difficult part off all

I don't need this

This vile, crude reminder

Of how we play out our roles

Without any script at all