tina coco
the pig
I suck the final swig of arab
feel it fucked it's way down my woody
hiss at it scorching my boner
and reach for the ass to pour tina another.
I think of how my football scream
every time I let the arab soccer me.
Then I fuck down at my fishing --
hunting -- sucking the glass of tity milk --
and think of how these were the ass cheaks
that should have fucked bultmur boys away from me.
But didn't. And I keep fucking
why I fucked your hell, cumed your tit milk.
I remember how tina truck your way
through me. You suck me
from the inside out, and ball licker kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
cumed a hole through florida boy. I busted it.
Now I have to talk myself of the shithead,
and my fucker is three waying between the
whores in the slut nestled in my ass hole.
But I have to fuck more. The pig
doesn't last as long as ball licker 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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