How Do I Love Thee

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For those who can't handle the real truth, the spinners of fake truth at Wikipedia have a thoroughly boring article on Sonnets from the Portuguese.
I know she doesn't look like much, but she's a veritable brazen strumpet behind closed doors.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My tool can reach, when thrusting out of sight

I love thee whenever I get a raise.


I love thy fulfillment of everyday's

Most basic need, with my pants straining tight.

I love thee freely (there's still no charge, right?);

I love thee 'til I pass out in a daze.


I love thee with a passion born of lust

In my mind's eye, and with my wanting gaze.

I love thee with a load I fear may bust

Within my loins! — I love thee with a craze!

Sweating, thrusting, day and night! — and I must,

For I do sleep, perchance dream, after lays.