I can't ******* believe it
it's enough to make you want
to blow your own ******* head off
it really ******* is.

Crueller than cruel are the women
who make my life a living hell
lurking like Lovecraftian monsters
in internet chatrooms and forums
waiting to break my poor purple *****
on internet site after internet site
hiding their ugliness
under a ******* bushel.

I must be a dumb *******
but I really thought yes maybe
this time yes maybe just maybe
finally after more ****-ups
than a cut-price ***** has per year
and I one more time fell for their lies
and another date went wrong
and my poor bleeding heart
is broken like a duck's beak
hit by a twin-bore shotgun cannonade.

It was a warm summer's evening
with a humid atmosphere guaranteed
to make my nuts sweat freely
and we had agreed to meet
at a quiet spot in the city park
down by the old public lav
where the **** frolic after midnight
leaving the place littered
with filled ribbed condoms
after indiscrimate **** love sessions.

I eagerly re-read the print-out
from the new internet site
(www.fuckabroadforfree.com)
where kindly ******* fate had brought us
together like lost souls in a hurricane
seeking solace in hot ***** *******
and I felt sure your byline
'I love banging ugly strangers'
coupled with the open-crotch photos
could only lead to good times for all.

I hoped you would be a looker
even though the snapshots
you had boldly posted tended
to concentrate on the other end
where your twin holes
were in evidence big-time
so my readers can imagine
my intense ******* disppointment
when I finally saw you
with your tiny bald pointed head
peeping hopefully out
of the ****** rags you were wearing.

I think I was probably justified
in using the claw hammer
I had wisely brought with me
just in case and I must say
in my own ******* defence
love isn’t just a matter of aesthetics
and maybe I'm no raving Adonis myself
but you really have to draw the line
somewhere and you were on the other side
by a very long chalk
so very sadly and reluctantly
I gave into anger and let you have it
and please believe me when I say
that the sound of your death scream
will probably not keep me awake at night
as I drown my sorrows
in solitary *** and single malt whisky.
*******, brave new world!

Freshman year was
a time of change.
New school,
new faces,
new obsticles,
new feelings.

Freshman year was
6th hour math,
where I met you.

Freshman year was
a meeting,
a greeting,
a new start.

Sophomore year was
full of new feelings,
a new perspective.

Sophomore year was
a broken heart,
a disppointment.

Sophomore year was
experimentation,
a new feeling of love.

Sophomore year was
warm in your arms,
a safe haven with you.

Junior year is
scary,
a complete change.

Junior year is
mistakes made,
and loss of a loved one.

Junior year is
learning,
and forgiveness.

Junior year is
unsafe without you,
and a death sentence.

Senior year will be
terrifying,
choices that have to he made.

Senior year will be
breaking away from you,
taking the next step in our lives.



Our years together have and always will be
the best years
of my life.

faith in the garden,

that some one will care

tend, the beds, grow rhubarb,

again. a crown is cheap on ebay.

they have made raised beds,

left proper pots littered,

here and there,

an inspiration to some

who pass. a disappointment

for those who seek perfection,

head for disppointment.

buy a little tin for seeds

to keep them dry, buy an old bucket

ready for the fruit patch.

clover.

sbm.