I fancy a Fish Flan
or Pie
would be delish right about now
I remember something about a Dan who liked Pie
he wasn't a karate expert
Fish Flan with carrots
time to shop
or not cos it's rush hour at this time of Day
(another Dan, blimey)
kneel before me as I dub thee
Sir Pie
I painted Pi
I should have doodled Pie
with a magic pencil that makes it real
easier than cooking, four-square meal
then visit the brick shit house to unload
lost in the forest in the depths of night
glow-in-the dark poo would help my sight
Paint the dead bodies and I'll pencil you in for lunch on black paper. We're having your children, in a balsamic vinegarette, and red wine. Enjoy!
We've got broken down cars and heart medication, acid and peanutbutter. Our circus will a feature the freakshow of mirrors, for how much longer will simplicity amuse the simple? Nails and wrenches pinned up on a cross and Jesus was a plumber.
laugh about it now
for when november's cold, shrill wind
winds its way incessantly
under cracks and through panes,
its chill will strike with deadly
careful
complacency
and that's when the warmth of a reddened-bottomed spanking
will be welcomed
sought
cherished
anticipated
desired
and (dare I say it?)
needed
bottoms up across the lap of my love
thumb and
two fingers within me
(like a bowling ball)
with her other hand rising and falling
measured strokes
stings of orgasm
rising and falling and gasping for air
no--waiting
waiting waiting
waiting waitingwaitingwaitingwaiting is not a thing i'm good at.
waiting sucks.
waiting is fucked--and not in a good way.
body pulsing
waiting
killing time with octogons, one eye on the window.
heat and fire and intensity...await.