smell

by vox et praeterea nihil - Not entered

go dwilling, i could find a home
and put my piece in there
a warm cave of my very own
daredevils wouldn't dare

police it
harbors may not get my wrath
my envy comes in christmas wrap
with bows tied on and little strings
police it, down on everything

retro scope my killy job
a little spectral scraperbob
a plug for all your plugless holes
a fuck for all your stuffer woes

go dwilling on a toothy jaunt
cheat it through the night 
and stop the fucky scraperbob annoy
the sweetness cold hard cash can voyeuristically employ to you
and then i'll slice you right in two
and then i'll show you what i do
when i am all alone in here

fear is not the bitter smell of dirt you think you've found on me
sweat is not the moisture clinging to my body rapidly when you
touch the skin i show you when you fold around my come-true piece of
flesh/machinery it functions as my dinner he could tell her
if he wanted some he only had to give her one
but that is not a goal in here
and what you smell is not my fear

Reason for writing:

    (((vox et
praeterea nihil)))    

Birth sign: Not entered
Date created: 1997-11-12 04:43:18
Last updated: 2021-03-03 14:39:48
Poem ID: 48173

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