A Collection of Spectacles


I’d like to take the first thing that comes to mind each morning when i wake up and write a poem.

I promise that this will be the most incoherent, random, jumbled form of nonsense you have ever read.

it’s not fair that i can go on the internet and find people that i wish i could meet. it’s not fair. fair. that (eliptical)

i don’t have love. but i really want someone to stick their fingersssss (eliptical) uh.

not fair. not . fair.   . . . . .      .

i want to suck off every inch of your DOT DOT DOT. 

You cannot touch me where i’m not wanted. You. Who is you? I want a “you” so bad but i’ve got an imperfection in my pocket that prevents this.

this morning, i looked deep within me and discovered that i would’ve had twins.
you smell like roses and candy (and a fresh aligation of child molestation).

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One Response

  1. Suppress them urges girl!

    But on a more serious note, (dun d un duunnnn)
    This was most intriguing,

    And that child molestation part reminded me of that flower poem you wrote. Hahah.

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