Chewed gum tablet, SCRAP with deluded senses, stretches

Like the elegant and sweet marshmallow, sticks to the teeth and under the heels of heavy collars.

SCRAP soft dough, good dough, female to put,

Removed from its vital functions,

Does it kill under bulletproofing?

At ten positions its three luscious blow-up doll holes,

Where the words taper and taper without coming apart, from his ugly and roughly typed mouth,

Red, fucked.

Candy pink, black radish, blue tuft and ready made,

The riot of grey pussies clings to you like a worn velcro.

The pussy ones are carmine cherry, the others, Judas Nana pink,

Moscow laughed under its worn-out cloak.

Woman, Man, company products. What's the point of subscribing to it?

Are there any more awesome, genital parts to play,

So that, in a full mouthful, savagely swallowed, we can, friends words, talk to each other?

Are there women in the eyes of men who are unfailingly loved?

Is there a man in a woman's eye who is not just her reflection?

Copulate, what a good way to cling

In the common sense,

But what kind of a future can we expect?

Meat and juice from our sexes are consumed,

One minced, the other drunk in one gulp,

In an oblique champagne that floods the lips,

A comic bubble, like a seal, bursts and dies on the shore,

But of what female entities will the penetrated males be before the power of their evils ends?

Oh like! Put your relationship on hold!

Senile and purring undermined tomcats, the party's gotten out of hand, so go back to your basket.

Float the hairy droppings in our face soups,

Too much licked in the direction of the hairs, the virtuous feelings fade away.

SCRAP in its delirium, twists, bursts of laughter, on your end,

Amalgamated love,

Of profits, interests, suspicions, threats.

Malabar, Bubble-gum has been driving too hard, spitting in the gravel of your driveway.

Ire and my devils have told me.

So push the door across the street.

DN 2014-03-19

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