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the unseenthe unseen Posts: 372
lock jawed
he stands in the rain
trying to cleanse
the blood from his hands
rub a dub dub
he thinks of jacking
in a tub
watching his cum
and the soap scuz
float on the water surface
wasted seeds of life
spreading out before him
his dick moves
at the memory
the morning downpour
drips off his nose
washing
brains and bone
from his shoes
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • BhagavadGitaBhagavadGita Posts: 1,748
    you either have been homeless, or you are very much in touch with homeless people.

    your poem stinks!! that's a complement.
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