19/31
Everybody knew what they both did
After the Xmas party a lot of rumpy pumpy!
The mid-size 31 year old female
And the 19 year old male getting it on
The lad has a galfriend and new baby
But still grinded the older chick
People told me of this and what joy!
They went to a hotel after the drinking
And ******* like rabbits oh illicit heaven!
It was a small Pattaya call centre with 15 workers
All knew and pretended it never happened
The gal flirted with me weeks later
When we all ate out at a fish resto
I fed on meat a different kind that she did!
Was I right now to **** her myself?
I wonder how she'd enjoy me
Would I be better or worse than him?
Captured for posterity in this poem
Does he still want her or msg her
And did they ever do it again?

Peak Ale
Rivers of beer flow down the mountainside
Like spring time rain fresh wet refreshing drowning
So lovely to sooth you no worries mountain beer
Very strong just what the doctor ordered
Drink your fill have enough to drown in
You will not feel death it’ll be like birth
New beginnings brought by peak beer
Brewed atop the summit by a Goddess
See people lined up to sup this ale
It’s free of charge life giving juice
All juiced up motherf*ckers!
The joy of life only at this location
Nowhere else has natural beer like this
And a **** goddess a few lucky guys can have
If they tick her boxes the right way
Are you one of those like I was?
I had her before I drank her beer

As much, in every man’s eye- eroticism brings excitement,
the lines of wrinkled sheets are a retreat without restraint
Every one of our kisses tastes like they matter; we flatter
each other on playing it casual— until anticipated and complete
She is no less than a queen; she sits on my thrown, ruled by these
words- all the shells of the shots I’ve shot; whenever we're around
we stain the ground; inhaling a bit of hell, with every bad habit

Moisture: more so to the reply of, “yes sir”
her tears echo soothing rain, but these tired red eyes don't see
much love- but still when it comes to touch; I'm filled with ideas
by her flood. Words keeping on flowing; but my regards to any
authority, I've been living lawlessly - against her authority

Old habits can’t really die when they pass,
even as an *** shakes backwards, with all the regrets to take
me back to my past. You can still taste a lot of things much harder
to swallow than your pride— that burning heat of passion, from
your mouth’s chamber: an abode of sweet remembrance
Now, as we must, not discuss about the label of us- in a nutshell
the conversation changes tone after someone’s nut is bust
****, how rough is that- we played a role to work ourselves
out of lust. We call each other, our Devil’s assistant…

You said: Wow, I think you are poet.
But I don't think,
I already know it.

You asked: Does it mean
that you date a lot of women
and smoke a lot of dope?
I said: Nope.

You kept asking:
So what does it mean!?

It means I write love letters
to my heroine.

and under the eyes of god he takes me
he kisses the skin crafted by angels
tainted by men
and tastes the sweet suckle honey
from between my hips
all of which makes me holy
he traces and kisses with a sharp tongue
and licks up red wine spilt fresh on my satin sheets
he wipes my tears with razor blades
in hope to see something virtuous

i'm convinced *** was never meant to please me.
after so many times of doing it only to convince them to not leave,
i'd given up trying to find some pleasure.
i don't know wether or not to say,
but i'm scared that it'll make him not want to stay.
so i pick apart the stitches from my seeping wound,
and open it up with no remorse or fear of infection.
and i'll bleed everywhere in clear not red,
so he can't see through to the tears that I shed.
cause if i fake a smile it'll make him feel better,
and convince my body so it becomes wetter.
but inside my mind its just a lie,
because being wanted is better than being left to die.