Herpes: A Poem

Just for the record, I do not have herpes, or any other STD for that matter. If you don't believe me, just send me a direct e-mail to schedule a closer inspection. And since I don't have any, I decided to exploit each one in an annual series of dark poetry. I am at a point where I do not care who or what I offend anymore. People can get so touchy and itchy about this subject. So if you are offended that I did not include your favorite STD, wash your filthy hands and maybe I will include it if you agree to tickle my pansa. So lets begin...

Scratch your vag,
Scratch you wenis.
On this night,
You were no genius.

You were having fun,
You couldn't stop.
Now you have,
An itchy clock.

But lucky for you,
You enjoy the pain.
Everyone else,
Just thinks you're lame.

You down your pants,
And you scratch away.
Turning itch into pain,
Is your goal for today.

You try to hide it,
But it continues to spread.
Memories return,
Of that contaminated bed.

Its more than a blemish,
Its with you forever.
Its simply a gift,
You can both share together.

Now its on your face,
Thats kind of weird.
Perhaps that is the reason,
For the horrifying beard.

"But Chris this is mean,
You know its not right.
What if you get the herpes,
On a cold winter night?"

Thats a very good question,
Voice in my head.
Message to Herpe Monsters:
STAY OUT OF MY BED!