Play No More

Play No More
An Ode to Modern Marriage

There is no playing fast and loose with truth:
In one way or another it wins through;
And it will be discovered, with the proof
That ends dissimulation - this they knew;
But he forswore; she dispatched vérité;
So, their accord was well-deserved; their vice
Confirmed in each mendacious word; they'd play
Each other for such sweet, perverse delights;

Both could dissemble and misrepresent
The needs they had concocted to avail
Themselves; but such deception breeds contempt
And perjury will misguide to prevail;
So, let them bear false witness as each dares
To break their promises; since they delude
Nobody but themselves, for who else cares
If such prevarication's misconstrued;

Let them, lying in bed, put up a front
And soft-soap as they kiss and work this con
Against each other - who is then the cunt
Who has been victimised and put-upon?
Their phony patter's tender, but it's fake;
It's planted to misguide and, thus, promote
A tainted lust, another fuck won't break
The bull and fibs that both of them misspoke;

He empties out her purse and does the sums
That show she purchased more; while he misstates,
She falsifies each orgasm and comes
With gasps and cries, as she exaggerates
A pleasure as untruthful as his books;
And so, this marriage of false minds is strong,
Though built on such invention, it just looks
As if both are misguided: strung-along;

Yet, as the fabrications frame and fudge,
Equivocation is of little use:
This malign make-believe means they begrudge
The broken dreams that die with each excuse;
She may beguile still, as he distorts
Her rash contentions by simply gainsaying,
Yet they are dupes, for both of them are caught
By truths so overdrawn, there's no more playing.