fuck is your drug,
and you are a junkie,
feeding on the foul sticky stench,
that you wear as your perfume,
you suckle and swallow,
like a hungry small baby,
you lick your lips clean,
of his thick white milk,
tasting and savouring,
every last one,
spreading your morals,
as wide as your legs,
they use you abuse you,
you love every moment,
they all want you,
to take you backwards in a uniform,
the lush bitch they dream of,
blowing and blowing their minds,
every cocks fantasy,
with no imagination,
and nothing left to know,
you\'re the perfect stereotype,
with bleach blonde hair,
and legs that never end,
those large heaving breasts,
and red wet lips,
you\'re a slut you\'re a vampire,
feeding on the meat of man.















Comments
--
Oh show me the way to the next whiskey bar, oh don't ask why. Oh, don't ask why.
--
The anger comes through - not only in the obvious language choices - but in the marching pace as well.
I'm surprised, too, that the title wasn't taken before now.
Raw and emotional work - I love it.
--
Another shameless artist
--
. . . and birth a new translation of a language yet untold.
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<IMG SRC="http://www.savetheinternet.com/images/save-thenet.png" WIDTH="80" HEIGHT="15" ALT="Save the Net" BORDER="0" />
I think that says everything, and why the 'slut' you describe is so powerful, and very real and central to todays society.
The poem is wonderful, full of anger and insights. It gets a little crude in places, but thats okay, you have a point to make.
I love this, in fact. The whole issue makes me very sad. You can craft your anger well, though I expect no less from you
--
"I told you he was tricksy...I told you he was false..."
--
"It's always tempting to lose yourself with someone, who's maybe lost
themselves."
"
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