He was a picky person with a penchant for piss artistry
He liked to excite women with his studied impropriety.
He often went to bed with a woman of society
Then she would be troubled by her sudden notoriety.
As demanding as a pigeon with one eye and no stability;
Although he had been gifted with a wide range of abilities.
He always told the truth in a manner Jesuitical
It gave rise to deep wounds and to curious thoughts inimical.
He read between the lines and fantasised romanticly
He knew his Greek and Latin and corrected folk pedanticly.
He liked to drink ripe brandy and practise tantric gallantry.
Until it led to arguments and words fired off too franticly.
He said he felt real lonesome even when he was in intimacy
Wished he’d never bothered to lose his youth’s virginity
He did too much for others and got stressed out by an accident
Until his control broke and gave rise tp an incident.
So now he is in prison and finds it suits him perfectly.
He was made to be a hermit and he lives his life less jerkily.
All he misses now is the ladies so beloved of men…
He wonders if they can be jailed and share his cell and comfort him?