BREAK MY BODY, HOLD MY NOSE

Your ovulating kneecaps drained their fluid 
sprightly on Mother Theresa's grave;
A pilgrimage of repentance for the lance you licked in London.
Ride like Lance's cancer into Germanic splendor,
And grow up to be the world's first coup-de-trois vendor.

Inner city tattoos are hipper than your pops on a Labor Day fishing trip.
Ripped from the artery of an aortic vessel,
Your boat floats higher than the vast fortune 
your dad paid to get you into Choate,
But somehow you still know jack shit about Kama Sutra.

Your eyes sparkle like my purple infected papercut,
And the special for the day is Angina Souffle.
Cause your heart fits like a delapidated chocolate hooker 
on a bender for six months straight in Iowa, fishface.

There's a cow in your porridge bending lightly across the breaking winds,
Break my body, hold my nose, hold my nose.

{POETRY}