A POEM: Keep on

August 26, 2011

Tattered black hair and perfect white teeth. Drunk and sober she was the same.

We liked to fuck. And fuck. And fuck. Sometimes we’d fuck again.

She was an agent in some secret bureau or agency or something. Secretive shit but she liked to fuck. And fuck. And fuck.

She worked a day job as a paraleagal at a huge law office. She liked it ok. But she liked to fuck. And fuck. And fuck.

Prettiest green eyes on her Angelic face. Perfect body to fuck. We fucked. And fucked

There was romance sometimes. When I could. When she could. She was an original. Spontaneous and well planned too. Confused? I am. I was. But we fucked. And fucked.

She went to school. I graduated years ago and had no secured future. She wanted more than a good fuck. The fucking was good.

She’d leave me. I’d mourn her. I’d get her back. We’d fuck. And fuck. And fuck harder with more intensity than ever. I wonder if that’s why she’s leave me. Make up sex.

The break ups got easier each time. I was beginning to get the hang of what to say and do to fuck again. And again.

I loved fucking that perfect body. We fucked everywhere. We’d meet to make up and fuck in the streets, our cars, her bed, my bed, couches, public restrooms, anywhere. Fuck. Fuck Fuck.

It ended a year to the date we started it. I was hitting a low point of my life and she was afraid it would affect her secret career. I wasn’t good enough as a member of society. Didn’t even get a last fuck.

It’s been years and we still haven’t fucked. Or fucked. Or fucked. Or even talked.

I hear she keeps fucking. And fucking. And fucking. Sometimes she fucks my friends. And fucks. And fucks.

I haven’t fucked much. Or fucked.

Just wanted to say goodbye to her. Goodbye to fuck.

Goodbye.

*written for you Kathryn. Keep on fuckin’*


A POEM – Piss Thoughts

July 6, 2011

I just took a piss. Nothing extreme. Nothing impressive.

 

I was just thinking. I think when I piss. I think about what I might do after I piss.

 

Sometimes when I piss and I’m going back to a party or a date or hanging with a friend I think about all of the things I am going to say next.

 

Sometimes I think about how I’m going to get my date to kiss me. Touch me. Fuck me.

 

Sometimes I think about the impressive things I am going to say to people when I am done pissing. Deep and meaningful thoughts while I piss.

 

Sometimes I think about what I am going to write when I get back on my lap top like now.

 

I just took a piss and thought about writing a poem about my piss.

 

Here it is folks. My piss thoughts. Not thoughts of piss.

 

I wonder what you think when you piss. I wonder what you think while I’m pissing.

 

Do you hope I don’t come back?

 

Do you wonder if I am thinking about you? How I can kiss you? Touch you? Fuck you?

 

Do you wonder what stupid thing I am going to say next to be the center of attention? Do you wonder if I am going to come up with something to say to warm you up to me?

 

Do you think when you piss? What do you think?


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