blistered lips

the scent of her
is on you like a tattoo
marking your craven mouth
for the servant that it is

your greedy cock
will snivel and bob and strain
but cunt is your drug
and you are her marked man

her claret blood
stains your bloated lips
and cunt is your drug
and you are her scarlet secret

your rigid prick
will bargain and weep and thrum
but cunt is your drug
and you are her clay pigeon

her flaxen piss
seasons your obedient tongue
and cunt is your drug
and you are her golden boy

your diligent meat
will mewl and seize and shiver
but cunt is your drug
and you are her wicked bitch

her butter liqueur
bridles your debauched face
and cunt is your drug
and you are her candy man

the smell of her
is on you like a birthmark
annotating your avocation
previewing your impediment
bookmarking your bewitchment

because cunt is your drug
and she feeds you well

Why? Because it’s not good for you. That’s why, asshole. You get around snatch and lose your grip, become a babbling, sniveling, whining, ridiculous, piece-of-shit excuse for a man.

You do stupid things, too. Your dick gets hard when there’s even a hint of pussy–the scent of perfume, the click of high heels, a glimpse of panties. Then you spend your money, buy presents, lend her your car…whatever it takes to keep her close. Yet all for naught; after the frenzy there you are: Alone and slapping your salami.

And we won’t even talk about your porn addiction, that you sit in front of your computer for hours, jerking it to pictures of girls who wouldn’t give you the time of day. It’s all you think about, all your stupid little mind can conjure. Even though you never get any, which seems to me a waste of time and makes you a waste of space.

Jerk it, stroke it, rub it, and eventually make the little bastard squirt. All by yourself, because…ewwe…I certainly don’t want your skankie pecker- pus anywhere around me. And then start all over again.

BUT….no pussy for you. No pussy…NOT EVER!