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My poems are getting too horny for public consumption. I’ve finally embarrassed myself for once. I think that is one of achievement before enlightenment or horny jail. I always get the two confused. Two sides of the same coin. You are already known the world over for your horny poetry. In Spanish they call ovens El Horno. (the whole statement was a setup for a bilingual pun I didn't even know you wrote horny poetry) you've finally accomplished the truest form of artistic pursuit: self-cringe
embrace it There’s a theory that women are more likely to attain enlightenment through pain, but I never thought they meant horny frustration and self cringe. As someone who's been diving headfirst into kink lately:
pain of all kinds works, baybeeeee Cringe is dead, make the audience blush, including yourself 
