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    Pleasures
    #1
    At the peak of despair my rucksack contains
    some glistening keepsakes.
    Though burdened by sadness and hate
    I cannot deny these trifling pleasures.

    I take pleasure in art which convinces me,
    if only for a while, that human designs have worth,
    and hope and love are real as bones.
    Like Oriental lamps it floats to the roof of my skull,
    a thousand fragile lighthouses.

    I take pleasure in the buttocks of men
    when they're firm as a deity's fist, high as roofbeams
    and tight as a highwayman's heart.
    When I see ones I like I want to bury myself inside them,
    cock and balls entirely, until my gender disappears.

    I take pleasure in battered chicken.
    Even the greasy paper bag and polysterene cup of sauce
    resurrects my joyousness, lost since childhood.

    I take pleasure in nihilism and atheism.
    Humility is beautiful, and the buttocks of men taste that bit more divine
    when one doesn't have to thank Yahweh for them.
    Reply
    #2
    after reading that i might change in my old ageTongue

    greatSmile

    consistency is the hobdob
    of small minds[
    Reply
    #3
    haha!

    Thanks for the kind comment, SJSmile
    Reply





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