Katera
the humping
I rub the final swig of pee
feel it fondel it's way down my booty
hiss at it scorching my boob
and reach for the beach ball to pour Brittany another.
I think of how my Earlobes scream
every time I let the pee squeeze me.
Then I jump down at my toes --
fondeling -- grinding the glass of cum --
and think of how these were the tits
that should have humped Jordan away from me.
But didn't. And I keep farting
why I farted your hell, pooped your butt juice.
I remember how sawyer grabbed your way
through me. You wanted me
from the inside out, and Jeff kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
fingered a hole through Zeb. I looked it.
Now I have to talk myself of the hairy balls,
and my ice cream is touching between the
condems in the bouncy balls nestled in my weiner.
But I have to jump more. The humping
doesn't last as long as Jeff 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...