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Click hereI wanna be
the sexiest muthafucka
ya know.
I want your
knees to buckle
every single time
you even hear my name.
I want you to
desire even
a token bit of my attention
in your general direction.
I want your liver to quiver
at the possibility that I could
maybe recognize you even
vaguely, on the street.
I want to seduce
your very soul
to a depth
no one else has touched
or even knew existed.
I want to work you
into a sweaty frustrated
frenzy of wanton need
of completion
that can only be assuaged
by me.
I want to work
my mojo on ya.
Voodoo you to me.
Santaria ya ass.
Flexing but just one muscle
to achieve all of this.
My Mind.
I read it twice hoping I was wrong. Unfortunately I wasn't. I was looking for my mind to be fucked over, and was prepared for it going in. Maybe I was too well prepared, because there was nothing there. I read it from beginning to end, then I read it from the end to the beginning and was very disappointed. It was garbage. No, it was worse than garbage. It was as if you took a crap in the middle of a busy highway. Then you expected a sentient human being to stop his/her car, get out, and clean it up with their bare hands. That is how terrible this poem was. It is a disgrace to call it a poem.