Buying The Whore


You are the roast beef I have purchased
And I stuff you with my very own onion.

You are a boat I have rented by the hour
And I steer you with my rage until you run aground.

You are a glass that I have paid to shatter
And I swallow the pieces down with my spit.

You are the grate I warm my trembling hands on,
Searing the flesh until it’s nice and juicy.

You stink like my Mama under your bra
And I vomit into your hand like a jackpot
Its cold hard quarters.


1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)

Buying The Whore