Metaphorical sex

I want words spilt out across the floors,
Someone who can’t keep his hands off my metaphors,
Similes and assonance sprayed up the wall,
As the pace of our meter takes a rise, then a fall,
I want hot, heavy breathing, a quickening pace,
With figurative language smeared all over the place,
A long exclamation tucked inside parentheses,
Form and content so dirty, academics will freeze,
Rhymes and quick sentences bounced off each other,
Intricate oxymorons that make us both shudder,
We’re swapping trade secrets, using every trick,
Wrapped up in practically perfect iambic.