Psychotic Love Poetry

My Pentecostal terror of the ever-changing tide,
Tells volumes of the reasons why I feel the need to hide,
The adoration that we share, it presently means bupkis,
‘Cause underneath my underwear, a shriveled worm produces,
The “milk of life” my teachers taught, that should never be wasted,
So here I sit, just simmering, in my own fetid juices,
But I really think we share something; I’d wager we could do this,
I’d even leave my easy chair
To prove that I’m not worthless,
A shower would be at the top of
My list’s important changes,
Wear some new clothes,
Hell, brush those teeth!
So you would not feel wasted,
Why, I would even leave the house,
If you’d make it worthwhile…
You know, I feel a ton of shame, for how I have been living,
A suck-off might help my self-esteem,
And you seem prone to giving.


I’ve got a dick zit,
You won’t even notice it,
It is pretty small.

Baby, please listen:
Everyone is doing it,
Come on, just the tip?

I’m not feeling it,
It’s the troubles of the world.
I’ve got a headache?

That joke doesn’t age,
Saying “Just the tip” is fun,
But for reals now. Please?

Word to your mother,
Learning to switch-off like that,
She must get tore up.

I’m Going to Get a Broom Handle

I miss your face and how I touched it,
I miss your lips and deep brown eyes,
I miss your legs from when you’re naked,
I miss your ass when clothed in pants,
I miss your hair, all black and pretty,
My hair is black and pretty, too:
Well, it’s your hair, but I have it,
And if you take one step closer to me,
It’s all going in the garbage disposal.
We’ll see who’s hair is pretty then.

Remember that song?
When it plays, I think of you:
It’s “Me So Horny”

Once, I thought we clicked,
But I was wrong as butt rape,
And you were wrong, too.

I said I’m sorry,
You are not a urinal:
Sometimes I forget.

It’s my fondue kink:
I’m a rocket fueled by cheese,
And you’re my launch pad.

I don’t hear words like:
“Pleasure me,” or “It’s my turn”
I came. Go to sleep.

It’s not menstrual blood
That’s soaking into my sheets:
Cutting’s not sexy.

I could not believe
That you are so tight and dry,
But only in front.

My teeth are pretty,
White and straight from dentistry,
Check out all your welts!

You love what you make,
Transferring it by the fistful,
To your gaping mouth.

That meme you sent me,
Intended to disgust all,
I’m Goatse, you know.

I made a mistake:
I thought you would not mind, at
Lake Titicaca

I am doing the fuck with you,
What? No, you keep quiet.


I know that you’re scared;
I would be frightened, too,
After all, we haven’t known each other long,
And you never imagined our first date ending like this,
But I’m gonna need you
To take one more deep breath,
Let it out, that’s good,
Now close your eyes
While I lop off that unsightly cock of yours,
You’re gonna look stunning in these gold lame panties,
Even if I have to snip away the rest of your bits.

On the Imperative of Dipping One’s Wick

Oh, I will bone and bone and bone,
And not say sorry:
You’ll moan and moan,
So you won’t be saying anything either,
Not really.

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