Another "randyhornbag" poem for all avid fans of *******.*

rip off my dripping *******
and part my waiting ****-cheeks
sniff my fresh-scrubbed ****
then rim me ******* senseless

taste the sweet-sour tang
of my recent defecation
force your ***** mouth-*****
past my eager sphincter

seeking to engulf me
in my ****** ***-lust
and now for our delectation
shove your huge **** up me

and fill me with your hot *****
or fist me till I scream
my ******* brains out and
then **** myself in terror

An angel cloaked in black.
A crystalised sinner.

But I watch over a pure being.
Someone who can't be dirtied.
Not by filth or other humans.
A completely clean entity.

I wish for revenge against God.
The cruel God who abandoned me.
Who reinforced rules.
That only help him in the end.

So I combine my filthy soul.
With a clean vessel.
Me and the purity.
We become one.

A sinner cloaked in black.
A venomous angel.

I want to
scratch your name off my mind
forget your hideous face
remove your voice
that echos so loud in my head
forget the feeling of your disgusting skin
and how it felt on mine
forget the filthy lies
that left your tongue
the words you were never held accountable for
forget the curls of your hair
that ripped my skin with softness
your fcking hazel eyes
that were never loyal to the brown in mine
that would always seek blue or green

I want to
rip every ******* memory
of you
from my heart
and then
from my mind
and rip my soul
apart from yours
burn every memory of you
that I have in
letters
pictures
scents
all your fake cunning tactics
to use
and then abuse
burn every part of myself
that you own
the love
the poetry
the letters
the memories
everything

I want amnesia to hit me
and take away all of you
from all of me

I play Magic: The Gathering.
I play video games.
I do both as a means of break in mundanity.
I suppose the way a person reads,
The way a person watches a movie.
Stories within stories in words and then
More stories within pictures
The picture part is great because I can't draw.
I mean I can't write code or balance over
Twenty years of game mechanics but words,
I've got words. I've got the best words.
I smoke **** and I have a lot of weird fetishes
I don't know why. To both of those things.
I have no idea. **** makes me paranoid and sleepy.
It does other things, too, but I can't describe it well.
I can't describe it clearly.  I like drinking ***,
But I've never peed on someone else, so I don't
Know if I'm down with that. I'll have *** with anyone,
But disclaimer, I won't have *** with just anyone,
If you catch my drift. *****, ******, whatever, doesn't
Matter but I prefer my fellow queer, or queer minded,
You ******* sickos. I just like getting my mouth on things.
Someone well learned in human sexuality might be
Able to shed some light on that.
I chain smoke and I neglect myself.
And I do both because I am one depressed, self loathing
****** with a half hearted death wish or some ****.
I cling really tightly to naivety, but not because I want
It enough to have it around all the time.
I'd say it's only so I don't go down that road again
And self destruct. Figure that one out.

Innocence
becomes
passe
Sin again
within
favor
Gestures of genuine penance,
all shall be refused
Jaded to the long term touch
I shall now renew
Sin
     Again
               Within
                           Favor
Sin
     Again
               to
                  Favor
Balcony beckons escape to only fetishists' invites
God would not rain *** and skin in test
So
   Remain
                Godless

these days feel like the soap bar
my mother used to lather all over me
as she bathed me in her
parents' home

they're soft and cleansing
to the point where I feel refreshed
and pure
and new

but as she cleaned over my chest
where my small heart beat
she dropped the soap bar
and it disappeared into the cloudy waters

soon these days will slip away
just as the bar did
and the purity and ease will wash away
to expose the filth i've hidden within myself

Not exactly proud of it
Just don't have the time

No teeth or claws
Nothing really but hunger

Not begging or choosing
Just desperate for something to eat

And when we find something, anything
It becomes disgusting.

But we don't care
We don't have a choice
It's not like we will get to see
Another day

So we feed.

And we feed..