The Things Some Do When They're Alone Poem by Francie Lynch

The things some do
When they're alone,
Would melt the marrow
In our bones.

Some scratch their ass
With such vigor,
Sink their knuckles
Up their nose,
Wank themselves
Like a garden hose,
Find their stash
And drown in liquor.

Oh, the things some do
When they're alone.

They scrape the goo
From their eyes,
Hork out phlegm
In the kitchen sink,
Flatulate til the whole house stinks.
They pop a pimple onto the mirror,
Do nasty things with red raw liver.

Oh, the things some do
When they're alone.

They'll surf the net
For pornography
In HD or still photography.
They'll clean gobs of wax
From both their ears,
Run naked up and down the stairs.
Landscape their private body hairs,
And sniff the crap beneath they're nails.

Oh, the things some do
When they're alone.

Some deficate in the shower,
Masterbate until they holler,
Then light a doobie,
Wink in the mirror,
Knowing tomorrow
They'll start all over.

Oh, the things some do
When they're alone,
I'm glad they do them
In their home.