James Webster

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Jenny, Jenny, Jenny Heath

Your eyes.
Brush fires.
Like slow death
In an angry ocean.
Your snatch
A manicured lawn.
So modest.
So chaste.
Jenny Heath
I try to kiss your body
But you spit in my eye.
Jenny Heath
I try to rub your feet
But its all about the t...
Oh Jenny
Sweet morning
brings sweet
Gash.
Like sweetend weetabix
eaten with a kitkat.

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