RIMMYRACKRORN

Rimmyrackrorn but I don't care,
Blow it out your hair cause you work at Hardys.
My brain cannot taste like corn beef in the night.
My distinct memory of your clitoral splititis 
into a dominatrix named chocolate chip trusslefuck.

Will you give a decent eulogy to urinologist pipe dream lickers?
Will you give a recent version of 
"I can't be me with this alcohol in my brain"?
Will you pull down your panties 
and recite hidden bananas in tropical futility?
Will you help me forget that big bra is watching unsafe sex in mirrors?

You may have hurt my mayoral chances by circumcising Koch.
You may have hurt the possibility of jello wrestling with Gucci girls.
A twisted sister pissed the night away in the solemnity of her first period.
When deep beneath hairy chambers lurks the fucking ugly truth.

I have a friend with super human wisdom 
who is going to tell me how I can be not me today 
and yet have the option to be me tomorrow.
Tighter wombs yield more friction in the end 
but looser wombs upend starcrossed lovers.
Ships in the night fight mightily to kiss 
in an instant of romantic bliss under the auspice of incestual fostercare.

I attack your infancy and your inability to stay in touch.
I attack your cerebral cortex with a spoon and a lusty glove.
I attack your leather panties whipping feels so good,
I attack your transfusion of rocking talent into my blood.

{POETRY}