A bad old ***** will swallow ***** quick:
At one great gulp; and then have it again,
Sometimes splashed on her – a diverting *****
Will not confound her ever, even when
At night fall, in the shadows, hair held tight
And jaws unclenched, by his force pressing in,
She buries all her pleasure and delight;
Subsumed to his excitement, she’ll begin
To drink his dank *** in to fill her throat,
For a brief while, to keep him quite content:
She, crouched and waiting, eager for the coat
Of viscous slime, on which she is hell bent,
Not caring for the texture, but the itch
That motivates a bad, old thirsty *****.

crucify me upside down      
on Lucifer's spiked ****      
taking Him down my throat      
        
impaling my intestines      
with His forked member      
drinking demonic *****      
        
I spit the bloodied truth      
from the pit below      
my eyes cherry red      
        
fed the secrets of the ******      
they **** my soul      
entering roughly        
        
blackness pours forth      
I want to bathe you        
in the acidic waters      
        
of my lust for evil incarnate      
it washes over me      
like dark death      
        
enters all of my orifices      
*******, torturing      
making me writhe and moan  
        
there is a man walking among us      
scythe in hand      
carving his dark art        
        
on the tender folds of my ***** lips      
making me cream out desire for him      
chained to him from the nether world      
        
I submit willingly      
this is his dominion        
dark overlord      
        
he sees this demoness      
in his periphery        
invoking legion      
        
to make me ***      
on hands and knees      
awaiting my punishment        
        
for being so weak      
manacled to the rack      
he enters my bloodied ****      
        
pounding out his hunger
with carnal, primal need      
his message is clear      
        
***** you will obey me      
I see and know you      
crucified on Lucifer's cross      
        
you are mine

I'm not a writer
I never pretended to be but I wish I was
I want to put on paper the feelings in my soul
I want to express them in a beautiful way
However dark and angry they may be
I have read many poems on this site
I will probably never be so great
But what I do know is that I have a lot to say
I want to share my thoughts with the world
Regardless of how poorly written

I am alone now
Waiting for the hulk to break pound smash
My ******* is banging
Where is my hulk
I have a pulse
Inside my *******
I will have to satisfy the need myself
My fingers are my best asset
Only they know how to move across my lips
Those lips contain my vaginal juices
The hair on my ***** preventing the *** inside from dripping onto my sheets
I beg
I tighten
I moan
I quiver
I finish
...
...
...
Sorry you didn't.

“Now I have begun,
one too many poems,
with your name,
and for the first time,
this poem is absent of your name,
and for the first time,
my heart hasn't sunk this deep,
my hands,
will never be the same,
after writing so many letters,
that will you never come across,
my pen ink has run dry,
so has my hopes,
because,
I used to write about,
how beautiful it would be,
if you looked at me,
the way I looked at you,
and last week,
I saw your eyes,
they were beautiful,
but you were looking,
for something,
for someone else,
you were looking for someone to make your heart race,
and oh dear,
I was not the one,
and I know your all time favorite movie,
I know various things about you,
I even knew,
I wasn’t going to be yours,
not anytime soon,
but you see love is an ocean,
no one really has seen all the depths of it,
and your heart may race at the sight of another,
but those eyes,
those ******* beautiful eyes,
will always be carved,
onto this silly heart of mine,”

Should I be happy 'cause we're friends
or should I cry 'cause that's all we're ever gonna be