it seems like these fucking days
half my friends are fucking for fun
fucking scared of ending up with by-products
like crabs or, fucking worse, kids;
a group of fucking unfortunate ones
aren’t getting fucking lucky at all
because of their looks or fucking personality;
some fucking crazy ones
fucking reproducing like rabbits
and ruining the fucking planet for the rest of us;
the lucky fucking ones,
getting it fucking on and enjoying being
able to stay in the fucking moment;
while the fucking saddest cases of all
are the ones denied by their own fucking bodies
which keep the fucking purpose from coming to fruition–

our fucking parents
fucked our fucking generations notions about fucking
and there’s not a fucking thing we can do about it