Fine, Fine Literature

I just want to meet a man
I adore as much as I do
The smell of urinal cakes
In the summertime

I thought she had no legs
But turns out
They were just tucked in

So you think you can be my lover?
I haven’t told you
That I make robot noises
In public restrooms
So folks think I’m calibrating
Beep boop — beep bop

I’m sorry
That’s a beautiful sweater
(Give me your number)
I’ll get it dry cleaned for you
Is that 100% cashmere
Or are you just happy to see me?
Beep beep — boop bop

This must be what death feels like
— Sponsored by Nabisco!

Like a little Russian baby
Sleeping in her stroller
Beep bop —

As I can see from your tote
You like fine, fine literature!
——  — Boop zeep zoip

Crack Spits

Crack spits

Wannabe knuckle belt whips

Fucking bananas and badodos

And their mittens and

Funny disposition

I want to be like the clan men

Dressed up in crust and shit

With the feces on the wall

Clowns all up in the hall 🤡 

Can’t find my elbows

Walking alone on Main Street

Singing bout fair god go go go shits

Watermelon juice squeezed from my

Perky nipples

Watch the sandy jungle women

Eat their shitty Apple juices

Buzzing wit’ formaldehyde

Bubbling wit’ the Bihar nazis

Watch me inch my way to the

Spoon canister

Skittles and raisins be damned

Clams getting rammed

In their little clam buttholes

With the stick of Jesus

The only stick to ever

Write a very good musical

Christmas Time in the Clamp Dungeon

Flopping around the nanny ring
Wincing at the sweaty clown thing
Nora didn’t realize how expensive it would be
To host her tramp Christmas party in the Clamp Dungeon

Briefly brief, but not too brief
Her pussy wet and warm
Hors d’oeuvres abound, whiskers to be crowned
As all of the little people begin to pound

Ropes tied, nutcrackers sighed
Mistletoes lower, Cynthia starts to blow her
Faster and faster, and into the night
Nora’s pussy, dripping wet and tight

For it was Christmas time in the clamp dungeon
When Nora hosted her tramp luncheon
With Santa Claus a watching
And all the little people flocking

Samuel Apricot Floorboards:

Pointing fingers at the closet sacks
Sacking sackity sacks and the whole choir sings
About Jesus and doorknobs
And the end of the world
Sticking sticky fingers in rectums
Shaped like bumblebee nipples
We’re all in the ball pit
Now I’m excited for all of the nipples
That I’ll be licking on your behalf, she said.

Back Up; Hoedown Lap Dance Sexism

Tree frogs biting my toenails in the wintertimes
Sexy nacho man just slid past the ovary
Two plus two equals shut the fuck up
Like Mister Smooth Plastic once told me:
Never clamp down on Christmas chalk men
Especially whilst doing the dance of blankets
Blankets; blankets; blankets;
Back up; hoedown lap dance sexism
Sexist Charlie is on the run again
And I’ve got sticky fingers