A Fairly Mad Tail

I’m sure that I shall never know
why you felt thus, and you felt so.
Around me, so few girls inspire;
no minds like yours to stoke my fire.
The sweet transcendency of your ass.
The mellowness of smoking grass.
The steadfastness of real granite.
But you? I just don't know how to say it…
Most broads I met in Cupid’s deadlock,
want – shall I say? – babes out of wedlock.
I broke some hearts, and stilled some song,
when time had come to run along.
Wondering now, oh so many years,
about your heart, about your fears.
But never will I ex-spear-ience…
Denied Dot's wisdom (and non-sense).
Though your words I seek to capture,
my lust for you, my careless rapture.
I must read on, till ends my rope,
But I’ll have you not, there is no hope.
A mind both modern and archaic;
your wit a true delight-mosaic.
Oh, to fuck you, re-dick-u-lous!
How felt you so? How felt you thus?

FOR REFERENCE: The original poem "A Fairly Sad Tale" by Dorothy Parker
I think that I shall never know
Why I am thus, and I am so.
Around me, other girls inspire
In men the rush and roar of fire,
The sweet transparency of glass,
The tenderness of April grass,
The durability of granite;
But me- I don't know how to plan it.
The lads I've met in Cupid's deadlock
Were- shall we say?- born out of wedlock.
They broke my heart, they stilled my song,
And said they had to run along,
Explaining, so to sop my tears,
First came their parents or careers.
But ever does experience
Deny me wisdom, calm, and sense!
Though she's a fool who seeks to capture
The twenty-first fine, careless rapture,
I must go on, till ends my rope,
Who from my birth was cursed with hope.
A heart in half is chaste, archaic;
But mine resembles a mosaic-
The thing's become ridiculous!
Why am I so? Why am I thus?