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Fat birds
Give good head and gratitude
He said
His addict’s dick absurdly thin
Like most poetry
The elemental line between
Obscenity and complimentary
Unseen
Obscured by a blur
Of her lips
His porcine hips
And pig ignorance.
A common, lack lustre
Grunting at his little death
That she ingests
Regardless of the calories
In spunk tart.
Art is but an ‘F’ away from
Fart.
- chris madoch
