Of Stench'n'Style

 
 
Rote a poem about
     a poom fresh from d'soul'o garubbish, all
stinked
            and stingy,      put up wet, wetter, wettest,
than i'magination can fuck wit yr Mind, mined like tap-city  
          wind blown fluttercunt set in
                      Diogenes
              little bitty squathouse.
 
Don't tell that you're here for legal tender owed back from
       the day was settled in and of.........it'sSelf and pleasure portions
sick of death,   tourniquets wrapped tight 'round mouths to
         stem
                 the hemorrhage of stench'n'style
                      for
                           everyman.
 
 
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
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