A hobby of mine is to stand boxer shorts in hand Locating the smellzone,as again I've planned The more and more whiffy the bigger the stiffy But the pant-sniffing session's gone in a jiffy. I have also gone to Franks house to grab his Y's He had them on once I hurridly undid his flys. The smell of crust or skid mark jam sends my mind wild, I reminds me of the green turds I did eating them as a child. Summer days I hunt for garden poo Or even lick remains on my shoe Tasting my own I'm used to the taste, In the street its a shame to leave it to waste.
Reason for writing:
There is no reason,it's just the way I am.Is anyone different?
Facts make better poems than fiction.Anyone can make things up!
Birth sign: Capricorn
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