Asexual Poem by Butch Decatoria

Is it a sin to self gratify,
Until the lower third eye spits glue
All thru the night
Madly rapaciously lascivious you

Almost desperate to find
Even when we were warned
Likely to go blind
Symptoms of a hairy Palm

When one can't come close
To transcend or feel
The ethereal bliss that glows
In the love made real

And there's no one worth it
To waste such sighs
Is it sinful as unwanted births
or better to self gratify?