Big Tits Chatted Up To Produce Bigger Tats Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Big Tits Chatted Up To Produce Bigger Tats
I remember once walking around,
As a child with an unchanged diaper.
I remember also getting low grades,
In math at an elementary school.
And geography and history,
I thought then to be a waste of my time.
It wasn't 'cool' for me in those days.
Do these revelations disqualify me,
To run for public office?
Or will my experimenting,
With various sexual preferences admitted...
Screw my abilities,
With big tits...
Chatted up to produce bigger tats.
'What's the matter with you? '
~I thought you were going somewhere else with that.~
'Oh?
And...
Where did you think or 'hope' that I would go? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 1:24:51 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Like an ostrich just bury your head in the snow... 'Wait a minute that bird doesn't do that.' Are you sure? Are you absolutely certain? I mean have you ever even seen an ostrich in the snow? 'Well no, but..' But what? Tell me then how exactly you know? Are you a bird expert who has put an ostrich in an environment that it not native too? You know thats a cruel thing to do. 'No I'm telling that is not something they do. 'Just listen for once in your life because I think your confused.' Nah I'm not. Expression so old can become stale and rot. So I'm seeking my own refuge. A camp of new reality and dimensions. All each with their own intention. A deluge of ideas to portray a different existence of each and every day.