I’ve been frantically combing through junk in the office in search of my day planner’s pages for February. Without them, I won’t be able to be my usual organized self. During my searches, I found a very funny magnetic poetry verse that Mike and I wrote a long time ago. The arrangement has since been destroyed, but we thought it was funny enough to write it down — and this is the page I found. Brace yourself, it’s very profound!
Honey floods him
mad drool behind is sweet
after panting my language power recalls
some fingers smearing butt skin
Smell these delicate puppy dreams
In light mist, lather languid fiddles fall
You want it most crushingly in mother’s bed
Scream no
do me there woman
why he must lust a thousand swimmers is my shadow
ripping suits at will
blue boy produces none
she uses her beauty out
it storms and drives,
but who manipulates it?
