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I don't love anybody but myself, thus)

For I'm the Great Blondino

We were the vacancy crusaders with our combat kits
of a toothbrush and hearts mashed in tiny bits.
Trying to regain what we never had,
smiling about the good things amidst the bad.
So we save ourselves with Bombay Saphire unsafe sex,
twenty-four hours selfdestructive wrecks.
Sober thoughts dawn again, all the way sub rosa.
Starting up again when it's already over,

but I'm the Great Blondino, not looking for a Queeno.
I'm sad I gave you nothing and that's what you got.
I wish I was different but I'm sure that I'm not.

In a bed with a cast and a Calvados
in a perpetual feverish crave of your lust
kitchenfloor bruising, freaky sofa cruising
and the early birdy balcony Campari Orangejuicing.
I guess one could say you got me mezmerized,
but what has become one should be dechotomized.
I'm sad I gave you nothing and that's what you got.
I wish I was different but I'm sure that I'm not.