Body Parts and Curse Words Symphony
by @PseudoPoet
Body Parts and Curse Words Symphony Poem
(7/5/2014)
So, you think I'm an asshole?
Well then my farts must smell like roses,
because I treat you the sweetest anyone could dare to stomach.
You count mistakes I've made like calories,
forgetting you are a strangling esophagus,
coated in cholesterol and stuffed with lies.
You flex between smooth to striated as visibly as a zig-zag line,
but even as I try to pass you out of my sphincter like the shit you are,
you keep finding ways to come back up my throat like acid reflux.
But I, am an asshole.
So, you think I'm a dickhead?
Well then you must be a kidney stone,
because you refuse to leave my life any less painfully,
than an unwanted calcium deposit in my urethra.
Nice to meet ya, now bye Felicia.
Kinky as they come,
you cum.
Because you like to torture me,
clutching that red beating thing in my chest,
with the fierceness of a nipple clamp.
But I, am a dickhead
So, you think I'm a pussy?
Well then I am honored to be seen as so sensitive,
because you must be a brutal middle finger crammed into my face.
Which is funny,
because you'll have your face buried in me soon enough.
You exhaust your pussy-eating arsenal,
including flicks of your wicked tongue and lips,
a tiny bite as an exercise of your might.
But I'm the one here who is in control.
So call me a raging thunder cunt and make my day,
because you hide in foreskin disguise,
now don't be scared little guy and stare into Momma Medusa's eyes.
But I, am a pussy.
So, you think I have whore eyes?
Well then maybe you give judgmental stares,
because you are faced with a dirty reflection in the mirror,
but don't blame the fragile glass surface.
The one with smudges and stains, until it shatters,
because these eyes are no simple sex object.
They are the most beautiful brown bestowed upon my body,
and they are filled with the anger,
filled with the rage,
and filled with the envy which accompanies sorrow.
Whore eyes, slut eyes,
but gaze into these eyes that are relentlessly unforgiving, named Hazel.
as if they had a name for human pieces of flesh filled with blood.
But I, have whore eyes.
You wave these body parts around so casually,
wielding them like words used to curse someone.
You scream that they are used to sell sex.
But my body parts are no curse words,
and my body parts are no mere objects.
They are woven together to create a breathtaking symphony.
They don't belong in a sarcophagus, still alive and breathing,
my heart is here and beating,
as much as that asshole may shit,
as much as that dick may piss,
as much as that pussy may throb,
and as much as those eyes may stare,
don't you dare ever go there.
Because while I may be a compilation of body parts and curse words,
you are just beef jerky, a food mindlessly consumed, and overly salty.