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
