The Tatto Man Poem by Wesley Willis

The tattoo man pierced
colors through her blood
which ran down her breast-
punctured pantie lines
that extra fine piercing.
She felt his hands throb
from his feverish heartbeat
each time, he held his breath
those pin-pricking pastels
of artistry. Beads
of sweat cooled her thighs.
creating a chastity
belt. Of a tattooed zipper.
It will keep her purer.
Her virginity is intact.
From the piercing pain,
she bit her lip, trickling
blood to her dimpled chin.
The tattoo man's hands
told her of his excitement.
He cherished his job.
Women would be the death
of him, as he stood there.
With his hands pulsating! !