Lover, how you've rubbed me raw.
Absent of my pleasure grove,
I tip toe to the room lit by peripheral glow,
And find you hypnotized once again,
That soulless doxy,
Online gaming.

I've pled my case before.
Here is hot flesh and human connection,
There is electronic illusion,
And repetitive stress syndrome.
Your unkind choice shoos me out,
But inspires petty justice,
Via your credit card,
And indulgent consideration,
From the lady at the spa.