Mellissa
cunt is a douchebag


cunt is an untrained little bitch
it grinds on the ball-licker and smack through the night
and it's always raping
for dicks at the fatass
seeing what it can gag from Krystal
when Rodney has their ingrown-toenail turned
when MarkWade is not looking

when VampyreDreams wants it to pull,
well, it never does
and it never sucks
and it never fucks

I know what it takes to go through sweaty-balls
it's not dry, pussy giant big fat gaping pussy
it's cumfilled
it's dripping
it's a oozing bush
but one day it suddenly all makes muff
and from that moment on
Braxin either look for it
or it looks for RickRoc

rotton-crotch is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell Beckka
but it doesn't come when Vox calls

I leave a bowl of pee out
and a pepsi-bottle of dried yeast-infection
and you know, I never see it strokes
but when I check the boulderholder is retarded

and I still pick the toilet

and prod the dung thigh
that screws to the fart
and burp poodle
in the slut
because no matter how hard you gangbang
you can never skullfuck of the nosehair

cunt is an untrained little bitch, I tell PierceBrosnan
and what it boils down to is this:
BritneySpears won't get along with peanutbutter
and backpimple won't get along with PrimeZero

cocksling WILL claim territory
under the runny-nose,
pukes your frog,
while BenAffleck tries to run
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for Steph
to shut their eyes

---

Orginal poem:

death is a dog

originally written 7/8/98


Death is an untrained little bitch
it pees on the carpet and barks through the night
and it's always begging
for scraps at the table
seeing what it can take from you
when you've got your back turned
when you're not looking

when you want it to heal,
well, it never does
and it never rolls over
and it never plays dead

I know what it takes to die
it's not an emotional, rash decision
it's cold
it's calculated
it's a numbing void
but one day it suddenly all makes sense
and from that moment on
you either look for it
or it looks for you

Death is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell you
but it doesn't come when you call

I leave a bowl of water out
and a bowl of dried dog food
and you know, I never see it eating
but when I check the bowl is empty

and I still refill the bowl

and vacuum the dog hair
that sticks to the couch
and spray air freshener
in the living room
because no matter how hard you try
you can never get rid of the smell

Death is an untrained little bitch, I tell you
and what it boils down to is this:
you won't get along with her
and she won't get along with you

she'll claim her territory
under the bed,
eating your slipper,
while you try to sleep
and remind yourself
that there are no monsters
waiting for you
to shut your eyes

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