Drunk on beer, wearing high heels and nylons
Nylons all over, on my legs, on my ass, on my tits. I shine like a spit
Like a lustrous liquid diamond imbued with hop
It was the perfect day. A very white day, whiteness came from everywhere, from the sky, from mouths
Everything was temporary white. I grabbed another beer (had plenty plus wine) and played to some god
Or prayed, I am not very sure of my actions when I drink.
I put on my glasses, sometimes I want to see clear. And the whiteness hit me, I kind of recognized it
It was love, everywhere, it was a fog or a dog, or many dogs that looked like a pack of fog
Nevertheless, both were from hell. I knew that. Therefore, I played
With myself a little, I have a very nice pussy though she does this thing, she does something
I don’t really know if it is a good thing or a bad thing, long story short, my pussy does a thing.
I should ask Bukowski about it. He is such a wise man. We should get together and sing Why are you so mean to me, so mean to me, so mean to me…
We should get together and drink, and talk, and scream at each other, and fuck and forget and leave.
It was the perfect day for conjuring Bukowski, he knew it so he came. Simply rang the doorbell.
Brought a six-pack. Looked at my fine legs, checking my ass, grabbing my lips and spreading them
And I don’t mean my mouth.
I said hey, Bukowski, you know I love you baby, but I have to ask you something.
Shoot, baby, he said sucking alternatively from his beer and from my left nipple.
See, I have this pussy, I said and I showed him my pussy, and he grinned and I dropped this tiny tiny pearl of pussy juice, it was exquisite but anyhow
And, my pussy does this thing, you know
What, baby? Bukowski played a hybrid version of ping pong with my clit but he seemed focused so I said
Sometimes my pussy says all kind of shit, she speaks like a lady and she demands cock
tails and men with ridiculous high incum and she pretends to create mute F art but not everybody is deaf
I hate that my pussy is saying all that shit, you know?
And then, Bukowski just looked at me, wiped his mouth with his hand and he told me
Babe, I thought you were gonna tell me your pussy was actually shitting shit! But you’re allright, she’s allright, we all talk shit.
There is so much shit happening everywhere. Your pussy is a miracle, baby!
Then he just started eating my pussy, and she screamed in agony Oh my God, Oh my God, you are such an ugly bastard, a poor bastard, a medium sized bastard, a beer drinking bastard
But I love you with all the dogs in my fog.