- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Brown Bordellos
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Click hereTo Typhoid Mary. In hopes that she poisoned a great deal of the upper echelon of America with her shit and spittle. I've got enough pent up rage to become a surgeon. To revel in piece-mealing and the art of butchery. Nothing I could kill would satisfy. The loss I'm mourning is time wasted. Something I've learned. The more duckets in one's pocket makes the poor easier to forget. Take heed. They remember you. Tanning hard in third world countries, visiting brown bordellos, or their thin, surgically altered wives eating the scabs off the gardner's cock.
- COMMENTS
susansnowalmost 9 years agoAuthorDo I know you? Your flow seems familiar. Reveal thyself! Hahaha! Thanks for the comments.
Anonymousalmost 9 years agoBy now I know that when you hit, you hit so hard. This one leaves me blinking back broken nosed tears and tasting blood, still on my feet for the slow clap standing ovation.
