Is that an application?
If it is, it falls short of pentameter. Is that an indication of further shortcomings? 
Ooh, tough crowd!
Oh god yes.
Hands speak for me!
Sorry I dont think I can maintain an erection and pentameter…guess I will humbly bow out of this one!
Never before have I seen such a thread
Concerning lovely ladies free of men
That put less of a mood into my head
To say “how YOU doin’?”; for I find when
I’m asked to follow up this with a poem
I often find my muse departs apace
And hides HER fickle head inside her home
And leaves my verse a doggerel disgrace
And yet I find I cannot help but try
To throw hat in the ring, and bust a rhyme
(Although I am quite forced to wonder why
Anyone ever really spends the time -
tabstoptabstopFor it seems clear these types of posts are hex’d
tabstoptabstopAnd very very rarely lead to sex.)
takes a bow
And now, a mental image of Facebook sitting there “Oy that poor little shiksva letting that chapat talk her into an open marriage, she’s going to get shtupped and not in a good way!”
She’s in a muumuu, sitting in her living room, telling all her friends. They sigh and nod.
You know, when I started this thread I didn’t think it would end up with competitive Shakespearean dirty talk.
Silver linings bubbeleh, silver linings 
Yeah, so far I’ve put together the little orrery that I’ve been meaning to do for ages, watched four movies I’ve been meaning to watch (WHATEVER movies I want, even if it’s NOT the TV show he’s currently obsessing over) and taken a whole carload of shit to Goodwill. On the other hand I’ve had to restrain myself from texting him a billion times things about these movies that I think he’d find interesting. 
Also my whole face hurts and I don’t know how to unwind my jaw.
I don’t know what things are like where you are, but around these parts every shopping centre has at least one or more “Chinese Massage” places. Little hole-in-the-wall joints where you walk in, pay a few bucks and get a massage. For $5 you can get a 15 minute head and neck massage, and they’re really very good.
But something like that. Spoil yourself.
It’s funny - right around the time my parents took my niece and nephews in, I got a Groupon for a local place which turned out to be a lady who has a room in one of the big Gold’s Gyms where she does massages and facials, and I went for it, and we really hit it off so I ended up taking up the huge extravagance of setting up a regular massage appointment every third week when I have a free afternoon. And it seemed ridiculously silly when I did it, but since every single damned day since has been a weight on my back it’s become the touchstone of my life. I can’t afford it, not really, but honestly I can’t afford not to. At this point I would seriously go hungry rather than miss my weekly massage. In addition to the whole “massages are great” thing, and in addition to me really loving her, it’s this 45 minutes of nonsexual touch that really is amazing, given the ridiculous weight our modern society puts onto contact. Next Tuesday is my day!
Woohoo! I’m a firm believer in the power of massage. I am hoping to reclaim a weekly massage as a perk of sorting my shit out.
I absolutely recommend it. Really, I’d do without plenty before I de-massaged myself. A lot because of that “nonsexual touch” thing, which sound silly but isn’t.)
Gawww, now I’m all twitchy that I can’t afford one 
It was Iambic. Pentameter? Not so much.
Hey, even in the Bard’s time there was free verse.
However, Haiku…
You want nasty talk
In the meter we adore
It is beyond me.
I’m sorry, I can’t resist.
White cord be tween her swells and ebbs
her gate of heaven held at bay
invited, sought so long denyed
such gl’ry so near and yet, delayed.
A strike or caress? Where? And which
and where again? From high to low
and back to front, a touch both sweet
and sharp, like pomegranate seeds.
Upon pale skin blooms rose and red.
And yet, not yet. A game half pl’yd.
Held out of reach, not yet, not yet.
I know, pomegranate seeds? Give me a break. Arils has two sylables, it’s late, and I was a compsci major. And never use the word ‘like’ in a poem, I know, but ‘as’ scans worse, and I needed something unstressed.
–
Once again, I’m forced to admit I can’t fucking tell which syllable is stressed in any given word. I mean, I know what it means, I’m not dumb. But really, CA-ress or ca-RESS, both sound right to me.
ONLY on the Dope… can breakup and heartache be subsumed by poetry…