adult rituals to be performed to Rick Wakeman involving pendulous appendages, scented candles, ripaway Thunder From Down Under pants, manzilian, piggytails, granny panties and polka dot socks
ain’t love grand?
turmoil wrapped in turbulent emotional breakdowns of tears, cottage cheese, sunbreros, sonic toothbrushes, milk spongebaths and murky dish water.
sometimes it hurts
my ears ring in silence while drums thump inside my head. oh whereforeart your ass, Romeo? speak softly and show us your giant stick…of gum
discarded glitter from david lee roth’s stage costume, can emptiness really be this meaningful? let’s dance on graves to find out
for thine is the kingdom
he’s on his way over and your booty just accepted a collect call from prison. get me a powder puff and some lip stick, i want to look pretty while you push my face down into a pillow and i secretly wish it was a glittering refreshing pool from which i don’t come up for air
sick as a godzilla
never ever shall we part until i run off into paranoia neurotic eroticism and disgrace