Sod The World

We start to talk of making risk,
and the world comes along and buggers things up.
Well, it can sod off.

I want to make risk with you,
to love, to happy you.

I'll cheer you to curse me for being man,
yet need me to be man anyway.

I want to lie you down
and burn you whispers
to lust incite.

I'll sleep you, wake you, kiss you,
and hap you the day.

Be mine,
and sod the world.

Later:
so what went wrong?
I'm not brilliant at this kind of thing,
but you screwed up royally;
instead of surfing this madness with me
you tried to manage it
with your professional voice:
how else could I react?
I need a lover,
not a mother.