To My Dark Lady
Your pubic hair its angels dark,
Hell beckons from under your skirt,
Your luscious mouth is my amusement park.
Lice patrol your pearly gates,
To your warm interior, I take the 1 Train,
With your lips, forever my passion sate,
You’re more proficient than the whores on Gropecunt Lane.
I could write a poem to your arse,
Of all of you the most exciting part,
It makes Ann Coulter’s cooch a thorough farce,
Baby, you enchant me when you fart.
Nights I enter Heaven’s sticky soil,
You fall asleep as I toil.
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