writes a poem! 

There once was a thing from Nantucket

Who carried around a dripping bucket

There were inside a ton of fish

Though other things inside it did wish

Like severed heads

And moldy breads

Pustule filled Chicken gizzards

And let’s not forget the one eyed lizards

It carried its bucket all throughout town

And as a child’s sniffer did arise there was a sullen frown

Though this did not dismay the thing

For a fishy song did it sing

“Arise o lovers of the taste

Between a ladies legs they baste

These fishy candies are vinegar sweet

And make hair grow upon your feet

So come now and come all, yes even the bums

To have a lick of these fishy yum yums”

And so the children did come forth for their promised sweets

Opening their mouths for the things dripping treats

 Writes a poem!

Good mourning says the gravedigger to his flock 

as the dead begin to walk 

shambling out of their nightly dreams 

into the sunlights piercing beams 

stabbing the earthly streets 

the dead squeeze their hearts to shuffling beats 

all in hope that they may find 

a little peace for their rotting mind 

you can see them walking here and there 

but until they have their coffee try not to stare.

Ferocious fucking sexual beasts like me aren't born every day you know. All of us descended from the primordial virgin ooze; so even a predator like me was a weak vulnerable piece of prepubescent slime, just like you cock sucking readers out there!

So there I was, a young handsome Fucker, unknowing of how awesome I would one day become; but that's beside the point—I was a sexually frustrated teenager, so when a semi-decent skirt comes along and asks me to be her boyfriend, who the fuck am I to refuse? Even if this chick is considered a crazy back alley skunk cat who blows slugs that would rather use a trash bag than a condom just to impress her even skankier jailbird sister like they were in some kind of post apocalyptic wanton competition. What the fuck did I care!? "I can change her ways" I told the prying dick lickers. Hell, I didn't care; I was attracted to her skanky ways like zombie in a maternity ward. Of course I found out she was seeing someone else at the time too, but whatev. How often is it that I get a fucking girlfriend anyhow? But then the day comes when the insanity and slut-mongering go even too far for Fucker... which is pretty damn far. So I'm proud to say she's the first crazy bitch I released back into the wild, if but a little awkwardly...the first time I tried to break up, over IM mind you (l8tr babe, go run free like a sailor on a shipwreck surrounded by big dicked sharks. Lolz k bye), she tried to fake her own fucking suicide! Second time I broke up she threatened to have some of her cauliflower eared thugs to come in my window at night and slit my damn throat! But Fucker will not, I repeat ‘WILL NOT’ be backed into any relationship regardless of threats! Funny thing was I never banged her…my younger sleaze shit self believe it or not, was a damn fucking pussy, covering his ass under the pretense of higher fucking morale bullshit! What an idiot.

So 12 years pass and this dame calls me up again, this time proclaiming how wonderful of a boyfriend I was and how much she misses my pansy ass teenage pussyfooting kisses and hugs. Now normally I wouldn't get involved in such crazy pussy bullshit like this, but I've been brooding for over 12 years on what the fuck it would have been like to bang this chick. So I play along and of course no broad can resist the Fucker in his current fountain of sexual predatorily prowess so I soon start to receive all sorts of scandalous lingerie ‘sexting’ pics—but then she started telling me the sad tale of her life after we had broken up… involving a mental institution and the mysterious love child of a pill-popping alcohol and drug-induced party…, this kind of shit is even too much for the Fucker to handle, so I made up some sordid excuse and released her unto the wild once again…have fun with those big dicked sharks babe.

There’s little pride left in a man who bakes his brownies outside of the oven…shits out of the toilet if you didn’t catch my drift. I shit regularly and by regularly I mean a lot and by a lot I mean all the fucking time…well maybe just twice a day, but that’s still one hell of a healthy colon! Being the experienced shitter that I am I took it upon myself in my childhood to experiment with the many nooks and crannies I could defecate into.

The master steamy defiling, my poop de resistance occurred on a day where I was awaiting the nasty end to a relationship between me and a skirt. I was to have dinner with the folks post breakup and as I sat waiting in the dining area, my belly already full of disgust, I decided to release some steamy significance of the evenings coming events in the corn chowder.

During diner the skirt laid down the news for the folks, explaining our ‘mutual’ agreement, I waited until the uncomfortable silence settled in for the punch line and then said: “Love is like a dish served with a surprise, never knowing what ingredients truly make the taste. Sometimes the dish can be tasty at first and sometimes you can you can learn that what you’ve just eaten is rotten at the core. If I had to say what our love has been, I would say…corn chowder.” Then I placed the serving bowl of corn chowder in front of the skirt and feeling full of pride, left the scene. 

     Writes a poem!

Long after the world was gone 

Corky the Cockroach still lived on

The universe was his oyster as he traveled beyond

His grip on sanity within a box of denture-bond

Once in awhile he would scream for no reason at all

For hours upon hours until asleep he would fall

One day while drifting through space

A candy bar collided with his face

“Ouch!” Cried Corky as he rubbed his eyes

“Not another sewage field of dookie pies!”

Corky paused, sniffed, then gently tasted the things fuzz

Suddenly Corky realized just what it was

“Candy!” He screamed as he jumped upon the chocolate bar

But before he could enjoy his feast a maggot hit him like a speeding car

“Hey this is my home you disgusting roach!” Squeaked the maggot

“But I’m starving; please have some mercy mister faggot.”

“I’m a maggot! Not a faggot you damn dirty roach!”

“Whatever just let me have a bite.” Spat Corky in his approach

“Why would you want my candy bar anyway roach breath

When you can just take your pick from enough candy to cause sugery death

Corky looked up at the larval bug 

Its mouth dripping with candy grub

Just look behind me you stupid roach brain”

Corky looked behind the maggot to see a candy bar train

Glistening against the distant stars light

Candy bars danced and smiled to Corky’s delight

Corky leaped toward them in Heavenly chance

And hand in hand they spun in romantic dance

In one another’s embrace they spoke passionate sighs 

Then Corky devoured them all as they sang about dookie pies...

“Dookie Pies?” Questioned Corky as he awoke from the dream

His face implanted in what was not a candy bar and began to scream

Desperation drives us all—strong willed men will lie, cheat and steal for an end to the nagging beast of burden upon their backs...but for those who are already prone to lying, cheating and stealing, like Fucker and I...well desperation is as comfortable and familiar as two shakes of the dick after a squirt.

I don't give a shit what the romantics say; every bird sings a lovely song for the simple right to ruffle some tail feathers in the nest. Just look at that drunken lush Mozart, he knew the game; composing masterpieces got him babes playing his six inch symphony right down their throat holes: wuggle, wuggle!

Well Fucker and I have our own little song and dance routines...ones where we can't sing and can't dance...

When I was sixteen, I thought I was being a cool bird when I stole a bottle of cooking wine from my mother's wino cabinet. Stealing from my own mother?! Gasp you say? Well fuck it, it was for a good cause and I needed something to lubricate the sexual pathways.

I met up with three babes in hopes to cock barf out the virgin parasites, but instead I ended up drinking the entire bottle myself during a car ride to a local mall, where once I arrived I decided to spend an hour in their bathroom, mouth barfing out my lunch and spreading it along the bathrooms off white walls like some disturbing Pollock painting but with chicken bits and rice.

The babes found me inside the bathroom, rolling in my own filth and humming the chicken dance melody. Horrified, they dragged me to the front passenger seat of the car and took off.

To top off this enchanting evening I barfed out of my window at about fifty miles per hour, the bile taking flight and returning like a homing missile through the rear window of the car, splattering one of the babes right in her face, little bits of puffy rice sticking to her cheeks like little glistening maggots in the sunlight.

Since this was the most sexual experience I had up until that age, I like to call this story: My first money shot.

In case Cockshit's love dribble left you feeling a little flacid, here's something to warm your blood!

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