She Is The Toilet

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Her pink hands are on fire just like the words from her mouth—
She’s thrown into the air and blows kisses while Icarus pouts,
She’s like a cat that can’t stop dreaming of fleas,
Gifted with the millions of Mitt Romney, she weaves a web like a spider
But she’s cold as an anorexic breeze—
A gay guy wanted to blow me and just the thought made me want to throw up
So I entered another world where the girls were high on cough syrup—
Where Jews got high on mother’s milk and grandmothers were proud of their perversions, I wanted to stay but the madness got the best of me—
Barry White whispered, “Boy, go get laid,” but I didn’t listen,
Too afraid I guess that the Japanese girl’s pussy had teeth—
Now I’d give anything to come on her face one time more,
She was the toilet but I didn’t have to go and Kelly Wells was just too old—
She screamed for a minute than barked like a dog,
She wasn’t ugly but her intentions were clear
After all there’s only one reason to wear boots in bed—
The room hung with crystals and clouded with smoke,
Though it was a straight line to the door, love had already bitten me—
My paintbrush knew all it wanted to do was paint Rachel’s’ portrait
But that was before I saw her tattoos; she could have Miss Utah for all I knew,
But what I did know was that the thought of nailing somebody’s mother
Or a Russian girl always turned me off, what do Russian girls know of Michelangelo,
Caught in a Byzantine net Russians are a people made of stone,
Who live in stone houses but are never alone,
But are surrounded by gargoyles and golem walking in the dark
Everyone loves a prostitute but prostitutes don’t love me
Except for the blonde vampire that ate my soul
That grew back like Prometheus’ liver with the coming of each dawn—
My best friend Hercules got her pregnant and she gave birth to the Nephelim,
She raised the baby in the attic where Amselm Kiefer stores his Third Reich souvenirs,
Where Carl Andre keeps his bricks, where blind children play,
Their incantations silent, where Ana Mediata keeps her vibrating skull—
Her meaning takes deep breaths and she doesn’t know why
Her father forbid her to cry because there are no mothers at noon,
Only square dancers with broken noses, the moon pale and bright over Russia,
The soles of her cheap stockings tearing as she walks over gravel,
In church we learn to renounce Satan,
In school we learn to measure the circumference of the earth—
So to answer the question of how far would one have to go to get away from Satan,
One can never go far enough, her pinks hands are so familiar—
Her tongue red as flame, the bottoms of her feet filthy, yet she walks
Endlessly pacing, putting strange things into her mouth
Like her mother’s dirty ass, her mother’s ancient tongue aflame—
Is it possible for a pig with no soul to go to heaven or hell at all?Beth+Behrs+CBS+CW+Showtime+2011+TCA+Party+YESBMF156OYxAbi_Titmuss_upskirt_3 AmyChilds_001.Upskirt_Vagina


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