Saturday, March 13, 2010

hereditary

nomatter
how sexily
my hazel eyes do
slant or how
much like
razors my
cheekbones
protrude and how
wet & by all
calculations, dick
sucking lips
do pucker
or how
impossibly
like a bow
they might
curve, how my
dimples flicker
or my white
skin may
shimmer and
my voice
dips low &
wit flows
the glances
might be
compelled by t
his to follow
as they usually
have
if all goes
according
to plan
it will all be
without taste
because
if not yours
these assets are
ludicrous and
all too
blatant
and i am
still encouraging
nothing
but my own
bitter
bad
homeless
poems

and i hate all my homely toads like my own
and they are mine
and they are mine



and we will be fine