wilma and I have not
wilma and I have not always se
en eye-to-eye, whereas eye could
not fathom the times where we ever
agreed upon anything outside of what
color her hair might have been if she
decided to dress up like a whore and
rap(e) my doorb_ll wearing nothing
more than a overcoat, dripping from
the rain, with her mascara running
around her cheeks like a racoon
forcing me to commit mutual bestiality
with her animal instinct and my animal
scent pouncing up and down upon her
while her face is pressed in the pillow
while her hips are placed in the air, while
her flatulent loins kisses my harsh pen(is)
etration during our inconsiderate love
affair, here on her husband’s bed, or was
it my bed and {she} was really the one
romping like a sex-craved convict on a
dirty pale moon setting
poem by Jason PraTT
Added by Poetry Lover
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