( “X # III” )
Of all the thrills and pleasures hence,
that bring her smiles from thinking,
it’s of endeavors past with gents,
on whom she’s gone a drinking.
With gall, abundance manifold,
a gift of gender’s crock,
alas, they simply wont be told,
she picks one from the flock.
The sicknesses of heart and mind,
strapped hidden., no one gleans,
until the captured and entwined,
lie stunned, alone, picked clean!
She’s flatbacked, conned and grifted too,
and sandbagged them a plenty,
she turns their fate a pointless goo,
then orders up a Venti.
With much disgrace and loss of face,
did she become the sleaze,
then justice made it’s early case,
and gave her STD’s.
With mask in place they see a face,
she poses always smiling,
to get them to that mystic place
of trust, with her beguiling.
They give her all the blood she needs,
but first she gets them married,
to drain them dry, a steady bleed,
the contract., her chelicerae.
With painted face and conjured grace,
she shows the double D’s,
then deftly paced, with words as mace,
she parts them from their testes…
…with manhood gathered from the host,
they are forever cursed,
to satisfy her female boast,
they dangle in her purse.
Alas, tis done., too late to run,
she’s bloated thrice her size,
the pompous parasite has her fun,
through tricks, deceit and lies.
She pulls them on their leash of taut,
round mother, sis and brother,
she flaunts her status, till she’s got,
her sights on yet another.
And when the castrate fellow moans,
it’s clear his life’s expended,
her skills remain yet further honed,
her scorecard gets amended.
She casts aside the fools, with ease,
long after they’ve been lured,
and yes this tick spreads cursed disease,
but this one can’t be cured.
Attached again on waving shrub,
with fangs yet ever thirsty,
the tick waits like Beelzebub,
until engorged and bursting.
So Harken! You., my fellow dudes,
to this my horrid strife,
I fell, as if OD’d on ludes,
for the con of my ex-wife…
…brother take heed, escape this deed,
guard well your sacks and plasma,
behind the mask, sits, sick tick on weed,
who lures with tricks, orgasm.
And if my tale of woe does spark,
within you some concern,
on lurid chapter she next embarks,
in hopes you might just learn…
…that neath that mask and cherry ass,
the tick waits on her shrub,
so don’t blame me., you must agree,
I tried to warn you Bub!
Blood Sucking Ectoparasites make crappy wives., problem is…
you never see them coming.
© 2010 Skizwerks Publishing