My God, Why Can't I Just Get Laid?

Words words words, will not come
like I can not come
maybe the words are my sex
and since I'm not getting laid
I can't get them to lay
across this page
the way they used to
orgasmically burst,
only to be strewn
about my cosmic mind
this sitcom like comedy that I'm living
is giving me a wedgie inside of the ass crack of my soul
and all of a sudden everything's just moving to slow
Maybe I've lost it
my ability to fuck my way through the vocabulary
as if each word were my whore for the night
my right hand pumping them out
harder and faster
like a detachable dick-tionary
a prosthesis to make up
for my disability
of social norm
It's been like this ever since I was born
This urge to just write and type
in a nympho-manic sort of way
My God, why can't I just get laid?