My brain is a zombie that feeds off words
which tends to daydream of signs that read
“Do Not Disturb”.
In moments of animalistic literary thought
basic instincts which can’t be taught.
Body parts prepare to show affection.
In laymen terms I believe it’s called a “Fear Erection”.
I’ve got one for that perfect sequence.
To prove I’m no jargon delinquent.
Drink a cup of wine and proceed to laugh.
The words morph into an image of a woman’s ass.
Maybe next week I’ll sit down to write.
Pen something really tight.
For now it’s all in my head
to obtain perfection is to pretend.
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