An Ungainly Sham

A gurning face hides a truth about me.
Can I persist in this pretence of reverie?
Laugh at the coarse but yet what hypocrits!
- Sex is just for all those hopeless misfits.
Just leave me indoors with familiar things,
Order of objects, sterile surroundings.
Don't unwrap the plastic, keep off the carpets
Or else I might die of emotional fits.
"Parkinson's calling" but I don't want to feel.
Yet that northern nit seems my only hope now.
I'll carry the weight, I'll carry the can;
I can't carry on with this ungainly sham.
I'll die as I lived, ashamed and alone.
- "Oh Kenneth you cad, that joke's too close to home."