Jex
the Rayning
I salivate the final swig of semen
feel it lick it's way down my butthole
hiss at it scorching my chode
and reach for the weenis to pour Danny another.
I think of how my duwadinums scream
every time I let the semen wack me.
Then I wank down at my ear holes --
screwing -- sodomizing the glass of orange juice --
and think of how these were the chins
that should have disturbed Mr. Rogers away from me.
But didn't. And I keep changing
why I died your hell, smoked your flem.
I remember how Haley denied your way
through me. You attempted me
from the inside out, and Danny kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
murdered a hole through Junction Nazi. I got it.
Now I have to talk myself of the it,
and my porn is seeing between the
whoremongers in the sheet nestled in my wanker.
But I have to wank more. The Rayning
doesn't last as long as Danny do(es).
---
Original poem:
the burning
(written June 8, 1989)
I take the final swig of vodka
feel it burn it's way down my throat
hiss at it scorching my tongue
and reach for the bottle to pour myself another.
I think of how my tonsils scream
every time I let the alcohol rape me.
Then I look down at my hands --
shaking -- holding the glass of poison --
and think of how these were the hands
that should have pushed you away from me.
But didn't. And I keep wondering
why I took your hell, took your poison.
I remember how you burned your way
through me. You corrupted me
from the inside out, and I kept coming back.
I let you infect me, and now you've
burned a hole through me. I hated it.
Now I have to rid myself of you,
and my escape is flowing between the
ice cubes in the glass nestled in my palm.
But I have to drink more. The burning
doesn't last as long as you do.
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