Despicable Sausage
Despicable Sausage
If you think that sausage is trying to pull you down
So hard
Until you choke on your own food...
There you are!
With your low self- esteem.
Trying to make a pudding out of it
But completely forgetting to add
A fusion of all those citrus fruits
That would be floating on its surface,
Without any tubes or life jackets.
It's wonderful how my mind runs faster than a Sunday sometimes.
And how it doesn't work at all on some days.
Maybe the mind really wants to work it's ass off
But the heart seduces it to sleep with the skull that plays upon the mind,
The game of Shibari -
Binding it's minuscule existence within those uncountable and uncomfortable bundle of ropes,
Until the mind completely forgets to poop and pee.
My points, your points-
They all scream louder than a girl moaning during her first intercourse
Everything just falls into place (read daze)
Those 'oooh! aah!' sounds-
Forgetting their own names;
Coming out of the curves on the lower part of the face,
Like any normal word
That's foreign enough to be considered sexy.
What assets? What appeals?
Faking the climax when you really don't have the knowledge.
While the heart,
Sitting on the left corner of the body
Keeps banging itself against the walls of the ribcage,
For having denied the mind it's own power-
To create and ......speculate.