My Fucking Soul
My soul is crying out -
“You have a responsibility
Not to give a fuck!”:
What was she worth?
But pain, and fuck me,
She wanted me to change!
“Stop drinking and stop whoring!”
And all the rest;
But I wish I could rest
My head between her ample breasts.
But I am doomed to die alone
And who cares?
When I’m gone I’m fucking gone
And God will be the test.
Submitted: January 03, 2021
© Copyright 2021 Craig Davison. All rights reserved.
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Jobe Rubens
She wants you to stop whoring. That's a double standard - did you tell her to stop prick-sniffing? The women in my village are prick-sniffing single mothers who suck cock for a toffee apple! Must be the country air.
Sun, January 3rd, 2021 8:05amAuthor
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Who can define love? I can't and I'm a fucking poet (allegedly). I love her. She's a smoking drinking whore (her description). How can a poet not love a smoking drinking whore? It just makes sense.
Mon, January 4th, 2021 5:41am