#fakery
whispers the stubbly face of the old grandpa,
or I'll blow fierce little airs all over your rigidly
pretending-to-be-asleeping cute little facey,
then tickle your kissable little
lips
and make farty noises
for the rest of the day
she, irresistibly, bursts out laughing
like the roaring lioness she be,
whose cubs might be threatened,
and laughingly squeals, oh poppy!
it's all your fault, you grumpy old poet,
you made me put the *** in my
peej's!
and how his son,
the father,
on permanent overwatch,
growls below annoyingly,
"great,
now we'll be late,"
and
threatens to tell the
attractive single second grade teacher,
upon whom
he has a semi-secret crushing,
to which
we two devils scream out,
"oh please, oh please"
knowing she will find it quite
charming, and maybe even him,
tooing,
the single attractive father-man
who, could be ripe for a
twoing
><
and poppy twinkles,
thinking that no
matter what you
call it,
that thing,
is all-around and
in~between us while
he changes the young lady's
sheeting
Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 2:31 PM UTC
A restrained ahem
echoes into the night
without even the edge of an eyebrow raised
the tentative gesture
fails to interrupt business
as usual
no mass exposed
to the fat con and filial misdirection
while on the stage
the hamfisted prestidigitator
sweats so profusely
that the greasepaint nearly shifts
May 1, 2021
May 1, 2021 at 5:43 AM UTC
Can't
I can't kiss ***
Must be something i ate in class
Or was it mother's scalding tongue
That'd scorch ya just for fun
Or maybe brother's saucy mouth
That'd shake ya 'til all the loot fell out
No I can't kiss ****
Can't figure out this stuff
You might call me a brat
Say I'm a loud whiskered alley cat
But it could be that bull in ****
Dying for just another hit
Whatever it is
I can't seem to kiss ***
And if I did now I'm done
Maybe it sounds crass
But god help me
I'm no good at kissin' ***
I might get hell for this
An
You might think I'm takin' the ****
But I just don't have that kinda class
I just can't
I can't kiss ****
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 6:13 AM UTC
My fingertips are scented iron,
I am here inside feeling so misplaced,
so irrelevant right now.
Three pairs of glasses on one desk,
two necklaces which are beautiful,
and then there is me here, so torn up.
I'm trying everyday to be happier,
but I feel like all I am doing is,
forcing out a beautiful happy facade.
Wear the mask, play the part,
nobody needs to know your pain today.
Wear the mask, play the part,
nobody'll know your main attraction.
My friends are pretty much the only thing,
the only ones I am bothering with.
Yet now I see, it's very clear to me,
that I will need to decide my path.
Why must I pick only one road?
When I want to explore them all,
I don't want to be forced aside,
to play a singular role this time.
Multiroling has been my key,
day #1 of false lies and screams,
I will paint a new image of me in the clouds.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 9:08 AM UTC