My husband once thrilled me with lust
In the buff now I'm filled with disgust
Plus he sticks to the ceiling
which just isn't appealing--
He's a bug, it's been hard to adjust
With our therapist we have discussed
that our marriage is gathering dust
Yes, "For better, for worse",
but the sex is perverse
when my hair by a pincer is mussed
Patricia Owens is stuck with The Fly (Kurt Neumann, 1958).
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Our sex life it seems is a bust
His technique leaves me truly nonplussed
I'd far rather not kiss
His insect proboscis
And he'd rather hover than thrust.
We once exchanged vows and some rings
But now he's so sticky he clings
As his pincer disrobes me
I wince while he probes me
I guess he's just one of those things
With the head of a fly and the thorax
The sight of him leaves me quite pole-axed
I've screamed till I'm hoarse
For fault-based divorce
Now I'm spraying the fellow with borax.
I can't top that for hilarious product placement!
I have tried to suppress expectations,
to deny the unpleasant sensations
But I feel my gorge rise
when I peer in his eyes
I might die from the sex complications
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