I’m like an animal
Crossed with a parable,
Mixed with a trendy cocktail
Tinged with regret,
You’re like a melody
Combined with an easel,
Blended with sugarplums
Tied to my bed,
While I’m fucking you with my
Right foot,
Left foot,
Right foot,
Left foot,
And so on.
Happy New Year to you, too.


So I went out of my way,
To be what you wanted,
I brushed all my teeth,
I clipped all my nails,
My feet and my fingers,
Now they’ll slip, smooth inside you,
Breathe deep, Honeypie,
Close your eyes, Babydoll,
I’ve got to tweet this.

If I was a monster,
My teeth would be sharp,
I’d be ten feet tall,
Or real small (just like Garp),
My fingers would be spindly,
My nails: raptor’s talons,
My feet would be fleet,
With breath stank like a felon’s,
If that felon’s bunkmate was burly,
And held him down with force,
Hands holding like vices,
Hips pumping, of course,
Then unloading betwixt the unwillingest lips,
That’s how my breath would smell,
But it doesn’t, you see:
For I am no monster,
Not going to hell,
I’m not ten feet tall,
Nor small like John Irving,
My fingers are normal,
My nails: unassuming,
My feet are just feet!
And my breath is not stank as I so delicately greet,
The lovely young lady who’ll gnaw on my meat,
Sometime after this dinner of saurkraut and beets,
A romantical meal of extraordinary feats!
But oh! I’m digressing with unbound conceit!
I am not a monster,
I am not, you’ll see,
Now be sweet and quiet,
I’m taking this key,
You’ll stay bound and gagged ‘till our next sodomy.