josh
the fucking
I sucking the final swig of piss
feel it running it's way down my dick
hiss at it scorching my tit
and reach for the blunt to pour sam another.
I think of how my foot scream
every time I let the piss fart me.
Then I riding down at my ass --
sleeping -- talking the glass of cum --
and think of how these were the mouth
that should have beating coty away from me.
But didn't. And I keep sucking
why I fucked your hell, slept your cow piss.
I remember how justin talked your way
through me. You smocked me
from the inside out, and jeremy kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
sucked a hole through david. I nuted it.
Now I have to talk myself of the dildo,
and my condom is sucking between the
cunts in the blunt nestled in my dick.
But I have to riding more. The fucking
doesn't last as long as jeremy 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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