Double double heart asunder
gossip hag dressed as queens
spinning yarns to conceal
the deal
One plus One makes tooth
biting on heel wanting to hurt
afraid to look up upon the eye that shines
Colorful tapestries we weave
pulling wool from our secret places
words we like and make us happy
wet with past moisture from our warm and dry pantry
full of those kid games we never got to play
with one of our own, with ourselves
master at baiting we’ve become
but no more than old wrinkly hags with pretty words
compensating for deficient wrinkled grey-matter
one plus one makes two-ooth
nibbling on the foot
of the ogre
making them remember how ugly they are
how sad, how lost
desperate for sperm to host
and let grow
for hope and eternity
him fat and deformed not like us, pretty in our own mind
healthy to ourselves
so much we upload a heaping load of feces and wait for judgments
soul, spirit, let us call more names…waiting for our kids, or fowl to cum, running to be fed, and wed, with …us
Easy trick, if you are into bestiality, to have your pet, your dog lick your balls, or give you a bow-wow-job…
Spread peanut-butter on your privates, and then let the animal have at it.
If you are into that stuff, this is a quick and easy way to receive sanctification.
Spread peanut butter and then wait for the animals to come running to slobber it up.
It has no shame, whatever your pet may be.
It only smells and tastes and licks and swallows.
Nothing else enters its mind when it senses food, something to gratify its need.
Let us pull some more strings from our old-hag bosom
knitting them in impressive tapestries
for the healing of all tragedies
tiny yarn, we’ve found clinging on our old-hag gowns
so that we can dismiss that fat fuck with the big belly and the ugly muck
Socrates beware the old-hags have some string for your own hair, or lack of
Two, by two, and a few on the side to hide
1+1=2
Easy as pie
Come, cum, old dried up hags, Igor has peanut butter on his balls, and jelly on his belly.
Come, cum, and lap it up…
Come, cum, old spinster hags, come and find moisture for your dry humorous
your infertile cunts
Master Igor calls for you
Ugly, fat, and so angry, so evil, so bitter, so wrong.
not like those pretty boys, oh so pretty they think they are
So genius
Seducing old hags with pretty words, and praise, and shiny jew-els
not hairy and sweaty like Igor’s testicles