Retards and cripples have sex.

It’s true, and I know it’s true because I’m a cripple. I have cystic fibrosis, a chronic genetic disease, and several times I’ve had someone wrapped around my penis in one way or another. We who are disabled strive for a life as close to normal as our respective maladies allow. A normal part of life is sex. The beast with two backs, or rather, the beast with two backs but one of them suffered a severed nerve, became paraplegic and is now dragged along by the more able back. The horizontal rumba, or maybe more of a hokey pokey that requires a little sit down to catch breath between shaking it all about.


Something happened to my sex drive, just the other day,

It up and stole the car keys, then it fucking drove away.


I screamed, I yelled and chased it as it sped along the road,

But it just flipped the bird at me and never even slowed.


I trudged back home, bereft, alone, bewildered and ashamed,

My head was filled with desperate plans for sexiness reclaimed.


I stayed up all night, the next night too, and jumped at every sound,

I imagined my libido, lost, was speeding homeward bound.


A week did pass and I confess, I rang the damn police,

They weren’t much help to me at all, they offered me no peace.


I put adverts on the lamp-posts and signs on all the trees,

I had the local paper print up “Sex Drive? Call me please?!”


The weeks they passed without a sign, and I gave up the hunt,

I realized that my sex-drive was a righteous bitch-ass c**t.


Now I don’t want it back at all, and I will be a nun,

If it comes back I’ll shoot it with my brand new loaded gun.


And so I say goodbye to sex, goodbye to love and all that crap,

Next time I feel a tingle I’ll just give myself a slap.