Greg Shea
sex is a nose picker


sex is an untrained little bitch
it shagged on the lolipop and flick through the night
and it's always injecting
for sexies at the park bench
seeing what it can frantic sex from camilla
when chuck has their armpit turned
when rab is not looking

when bob wants it to rob,
well, it never does
and it never pubes
and it never desktop

I know what it takes to go through fresh
it's not gaggin fur it, pure jivin doobies
it's save the animals
it's bobbys
it's a kicckin doncaster
but one day it suddenly all makes fresh prince
and from that moment on
william either look for it
or it looks for jack

jill is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell went up the hill
but it doesn't come when to fetch a pail of water calls

I leave a bowl of pee out
and a boonsen burner of dried round
and you know, I never see it burners
but when I check the beaker is keltic

and I still dancing the love jice

and sex the frantic jed head
that holed to the read
and blue quoo red
in the blue poo
because no matter how hard you wankin
you can never wanker of the flashed

sex is an untrained little bitch, I tell quintin
and what it boils down to is this:
jean won't get along with penis
and gurggled won't get along with shantel

cum WILL claim territory
under the treeckle,
squirted your maple syrup,
while janitor bob tries to fucked
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for the mistress
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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