Here Comes Her Lover And He's Gay Poem by James McLain

When is it fun and a game,
or is it her's insane.
just to keep milking it.
The way,
you do it now.

Look at your hands.
warm and slippery.
Yellow and dripping so wet.
and ever growing
more he is told.

You're fevered and glowing.
All of your faces are so red.
Rejected by him at the prom.
and him by all of you.
Ruffies put by you, in his milk.
He does not drink,
what you might think
he thought you drank.
He is good like milk.
And loved by all,
by you and by most
as he should.

She looks at him now.
Passed out cold.
So how can you now.
Why did you,
and all your friends.
You and the other one
she squeezes,
the brown paper bag.

When one is coming up
each flight of stairs
the mother's always coming down.
And all of you giggle
and *sigh.*
And all of that spilled milk.
Milk all that sweet milk.
Looking around you
it is every where.

It's on your faces,
on your hands.
Yellow are those blouses
you changed
and your skirts,
are soaked as well.

Deep asleep, like a babe.
and yes you were
them knowing,
Now he comes awake again.
And you know by now,
he's in your grip of pain.
And no one seems to care.

Here comes a lover,
that none of you knew.
that a hunk like him
like you could be 'gay'.

And you didn't know, that
all the ones that you want
like he are, 'always gay.
Feeding him all of those ruffies,
like the three of you just did.

You have done in the past.
like all the ones who,
come to school
and brag, 'the next day,
with out any memory
of those nights of the past.
While you keep,
all of those pictures as proof
of your skills.

What do all you think of
your hot selves now.
And even more so vainly now.
As he lays on your couch,
deep fast in rem sleep.
alive in your hands
you moving it right now.
Here comes, his lover
and she is gay.