You shouldn't scratch that

You see her but you don't beseech,
Lecterns are lectured; besides,
Each to each, and
Let fools learns and lovers recover unlovely ways
Hear me =
Muse Nothing: we're empty,
Innocent like that
So beseech her to be truthful
There's little else beside.
Claim, bold friend, there's little else outside,
Be yourself one day, a deceit that may
Satisfy the rest. Eh,
We never stay reliable. Ask mother. Whose?
Choose. Trickery to end, spent friend.

His face was once an enchanting sight.
Need I say? It isn't any more.
It threatened bewitchment to a dangerous side
The sort that squats and pisses flagrantly
Against the walls of railway stations
I offer this:
These hands are safe now these eyes aren't sore,
And I see sweetheart for what she is, her core
Truly nothing more than guilty bliss, hands tussle
Whilst pelvises flex, clumsy manoeuvres indict sexuality,
Or praise it, depends on your sensitivity - see?

"God bless other souls, still
The devil take me down"
A confessor in 2nd century souls,
My lover taught me grace.
She birthed me to the cotton age
I struggle and I learn nothing.
Fortunately I have a challenging role in Shoreditch Cod and Chips where I have learnt organisational and team-working skills as well as administistarve abilities and managaging a tight budget and aso at same time teamwortk skills with my cousin mo who tells me what to do and i like that - I NEED STRUCTURE ERGO I WAKE AT 7, LISTEN TO POP MUSIC, EAT WHEAT, PERSPIRE FOR 120 YEARS AND PERISH.

My crimes are scarcely worth report.