Ssoofffttly~ I~ Tread ~tiaera Poem by James McLain

Use your fumiest femininity to hide your displeasure
of men up your arse not me yes them.
Sorry (no I'm not) that the pile of dog feces that jack
built fell down to the ground and cracked
your crown like it should.
Bipolar wench in a wrap around skirt eating finch
thinking it quailala until your
tonsils explode.
You have me living on some god forsaken rock in
the middle of the ocean I'll pack my bags move to
United Kingdom of immigrants then you can sniff my back.

I still love you,) it(s not thanks giving dont trip...Bla Bla Bla

but may your Christmas be worse than mine keep
your lips sealed dont say it..
To bad I have your poems now beg.