Dirty Couch

On this dirty couch
All wound up trying to unwind,
I want to reach out, but you don’t-
So I’m dancing around desperation,
I call out for that spark of connection,
To feel something at the same time,
And once again,
I’m writing poems of porn,
Trying to resurrect that feeling,
When every hair becomes erect,
Then everything drains out of me,
And I’m suddenly aware,
You’re not going to message,
And I don’t even know who you are,
But I’m still refreshing my page,
On this dirty couch.