3am Sexaphonica
Fur-lined panties an oversized dildo
and a talking sexbot named Sadie
It stunk of tequila
half-smoked cigarettes and rubber pussy
In a rotating circus of muzak elevator air
He tried small talk
In a drowning sea of alcoholic fizz
He looked for warm blood –
someone human who could
make the eye of failure
stop winking at him
What did he have to show for six decades?
Vicious voices on his ass
And his ego flopping in the gutter
Horror Sleaze Trash 
Good poem. I think a lot of middle-aged people (women included) can relate to this.
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