Epic Tragedy: Bobo Laments the Loss of His Skank (878 hits)
Category: RomanceRating: 1 on 5 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Ex Lux Astrum (View user info) at 2004-11-16 14:01:10 EST
This is written in commiseration, in the spirit of true love lost and broken-heart camaraderie, for all you jilted lovers out there who are continuously writing about your loneliness and despair.
If loving hearts had vision then mine has been blind,
Shutting out your Light, your Love left behind.
But now I can see as yet we drift apart,
That life without you is a museum without art--
A field without flowers, a sky without blue,
A soul without Spirit, a color without hue;
A kiss without passion, an embrace with no heat,
A future with no past, a heart with no beat.
My life is a jigsaw, and you the missing piece,
Without you I'm Jason, without the Golden Fleece.
I miss you. Our love was epic, our lust was tragic. I miss your stunted, gentle arms, you fucking skank. The endearing way you would piss on my mattress during your orgasms. The enchanting rotting-mollusk, low-tide stench of your sex box—I would have to open the windows in my room after you left. Birds would drop from the sky. Flowers would wilt. I could actually see the toxic, rippling waves of corrupted atmosphere you left in your wake, like the blurry, refracted air on a desert highway. The way you would defecate on my stomach after flaying me with your cat o'nine tails was really special. And I always loved the way you tenderly clamped electrodes to my hairy scrotum and sent sexy sine-waves of 240 volt 3-phase pleasure meandering through my nads.
Our love was truly tragic and monstrously Epic. Odysseus-magnitude Epic-ness. You are the maggot-rich apple of Polythemus' eye. You, my pint-size penis pirranah, have the sexual appetite of lumbering, drunken Laistrygonians. You are a Lotus-eater, a sperm swallower, my secret seductive slut, my singing Siren sucking the sex from my tortured crank. Like Scylla reaching out from her hungry, dim cave you thrust forth your long necks (all your six heads and gaping sweet maws), and chew my pulsing schlong daintily, like puppy's teething on a stick. Like Charybdis, thrice each day you swallow my swollen meat in your frightful chasm, and thrice you disgorge me.
I am a victim of your voracious vagina and the unyielding vortex of your hideous love.
O misery! O cruel Fate! Why did you leave me, my little fucking whore? My heart aches. It feels hollow, vacated. It echoes my pathos. It is as empty as the sound of footsteps on the naked, parquet floor in our "Special Room", now devoid of furniture. Our oaken, sweat-stained rack, our cold steel shackles, your assortment of spiked dog collars and shiny black double-donged dildos, and our limited-edition Martha Stewart branding irons; all the evidence of our perverted, grim sex Odyssey are gone.
My diminutive, delicate flower, my petite venus fly-trap. You gave big love for a midget. You were only 3 foot ten inches tall, but a dynamo of Lilliputian love, you fucking dwarf. What kind were you, achondroplastic or hypo-pituitary?? I remember lifting you gingerly, gracefully, like some slut Chatty Cathy doll, to the bathroom mirror so you could pluck my pubes from your yellowed teeth, and scratch the dried jizz from your long eye lashes. How I yearn to blacken your beady eyes again. How I long to toy with your pygmy pussy and teasingly snap, like a baby alligator, at your rosy clit with my needle-nose pliers. You used to love it when I drop-kicked you like a cringing football across the room. O what glorious memories! O what poignant pain now that you are gone.
God damn the circus for taking you back. God damn them to hell.
You and I are two
Cups of tea, steeping Souls
Steaming, mingling and making
perfume.
You and I are two
Cigarettes, our love
Lit by a common match:
Spirits silently ascending
Blending and blooming-
Sacred smoke.
And so we two of substance
Give source for a purer love-
Yet too fast are we consumed:
The cups are empty,
And cool ash the only trace
Of our brief ecstasy.......
You fucking pig skank whore.
User Reviews
Submitted by snagglepuss (user info) at 2004-11-16 23:26:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Ex_Lux_Astrum (user info) at 2004-11-16 15:55:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Alas, one cannot put a tawdry NSFW label on true love. True love is risque, wild and dangerous. Why, I remember the time I was caught stapling my pygmy partners labia to the cork board....
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2004-11-16 14:39:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
4 little letters in the title, and this would be a +2. As it is, I need to clean the caffeine off my monitor.
Submitted by hyprspacd (user info) at 2004-11-16 14:21:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
+2 for midget pr0n
-1 for no NSFW
Submitted by WhatTheHell (user info) at 2004-11-16 14:08:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.... midget pron!
NSFW assface!