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Corset
Poems
Oct 2015
Never Play With Your Food
Never Play With Your Food
Warning
This Poem is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.
Fire hoops are for circus dogs
and astral planes are fueled by
groovy Astro-knots
come here
I have an unreachable itch
and I need you to scratch it
tenderly,
until it stops bleeding.
Nine and 1/2 weeks
looks like Hans Christian Anderson
in drag
where a heart still calls 911
off a bathroom wall
for a good time,
where death
wears tassels
and paisley,
and I scream your name
in quinolyl fairy tales.
Written by
Corset
San Antonio
(San Antonio)
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