The joys of a young boy are simply cruel They’ll take living things in matchboxes school. To give you a slightly squeamish example! I once squeezed a tiny frog into one.
He kisses me like a caterpillar Curling in a sun aroused flower So playful is his desire his ardour My carpel wishes are to enclose Around that: wincing thorn of pleasure.
Even when their happy, It’s with sour vinaigrette’s -Wailing and crying… With packets of cigarette’s This leaves me to reflect Why all these Juliette’s Whisper and misdirect…
