poet in times of crisis

a love that must surely be amphibious
a wetsuit dries up so quick and fastidious
a kiss tastes like stale girls with their fuzz gone flat
most of my insipid sarcasm tastes better than that
yet he claims his bitch count is eight hundred strong..
he must play a mean game of ping pong if the line isn’t so damn long
i’m never sure if my envy is primal or innate
either way there’s way too much broccoli on my plate

so we finally got a little bit of privacy
she unzipped my pants and made her plea
please make him healthy again, doctor P
nuts! before being brief i was briefly a boxer
and let me tell you, nothing feels better than to be on first letter basis with your doctor
back when eyes were black no matter where you look,
i wouldn’t normally tell the truth but you can’t lie to a bloody left hook
bolts and nuts.. doc says oh, i think i’d better dispense with them both
and for the record, i never took that hippocratic oath