Ejaculation

My fountain pen is flowing once again

and all that’s good in me is spilling out.

My hand moves and that works to calm my brain

but will it be a whisper or a shout?

And out there in the darkness do you wait

to taste each dainty drop of what I write?

Do you write yourself until you must abate?

Do you dream about a hot nib every night?

Will what I write tonight be seminal?

Will this sonnet penetrate you to your core?

Will it trigger something neurochemical

and leave you lying gasping on the floor?

Or will you be more sensible perhaps

and volta long before my dull climax?