Fu*k fug

It is not any blood-filled
desire of mine to go fu*k
Fu*k it         I’m in this fug
Fug in the brain         in the
Legs         They don’t cross
Each other         Their inner
Thighs don’t         touch for
Having the legs, the feet,
Cross forward         and back
Like some lovers         stirring
Fu*k it         Time to get this
These nates off sacks

© Leon Wing


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