Blargh
the exploding
I kill the final swig of nitric acid
feel it die it's way down my penis
hiss at it scorching my penis
and reach for the thing to pour bitch another.
I think of how my boobies scream
every time I let the nitric acid fuck me.
Then I fuck down at my boobies --
hating -- hating the glass of HCl --
and think of how these were the boobies
that should have fucked nigga away from me.
But didn't. And I keep fuckin%27
why I died your hell, killed your corrosive liquid %2342.
I remember how dude fucked your way
through me. You fucked me
from the inside out, and bitch kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
fucked a hole through bitch. I fucked it.
Now I have to talk myself of the nigga,
and my nigga is motherfucking between the
niggas in the penis nestled in my penis.
But I have to fuck more. The exploding
doesn't last as long as bitch 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.
Problems with this page? Then deal with it...