one fist fits all
so
puke like a pro
you look like my friend
and my friend, she’s dead

and I like the idea
of the world being
born
with a sound

sentiments aside
you can’t hold me
my *****-  jet powered
my body- torpedo
the no hold of
nets can’t close
you’re the pretty one
let me touch the pretty one
again

I’m too loud to be creepy
I’m just sneaky
with
small questions
bare thighs
and nasty noises