
A Revenge Poem in Tweets | Poems that Suck

The last straw was when I slapped his ass while he fucked me slow. "You sick fuck," he rumbled in my ear. We laughed in the thick darkness with nothing but each other to cling to.
I keep getting these emails about making my cock bigger. Which is strange because I don't have a cock. Well, I do. I bought it. It's mine.
Shit poetry is a lot like Twitter,
expect that with Twitter
you only have 140 characters
to say
nothing at all.
Had I known it was going to be the last time that we would kiss, I would've given it everything I had and.... Bit your fucking lip off.
My new lover called today, purring obscenities in my ear like a fat cat about to get its fill on something juicy. In my excitement to get it in, I decided to Nair, rather than shave my thick, auburn, pubic hair. We were naked an hour later, when he recoiled in horror. I turned my head to look, then had to explain that it was a chemical burn and not, in fact, Herpes.
Dear Santa, All I want for Christmas is The Collected Works of Charles Bukowski, A Jesus Christ Superstar tank top (preferably in Medium) and a guy that will let me fuck him up the ass. (also, preferably in Medium)
When I was 19 I had this boyfriend and he was a little strange; a little too in to women's silky panties, a little too intellectual. ya dig? Anyway, this one time when we were fucking, he jumped up on my chest and swung his little ass around and wanted me to blow him from the back. Now, I've seen and done a lot of weird and kinky shit since then but, you never forget the first time you see the back of someone's ball bag. Magnificent.
I was walking along a narrow,
Parisian street; very posh,
the kind with neat hedgerows
that camouflage the iron gate
intended to keep
the riff raff
out.
–
I was having a pleasant
morning stroll, but
then a giant pile
of dog shit
came across
my
path.
–
I paused for a moment,
nibbling on my
chocolate croissant,
mulling over
the turd in
my way
before
continuing
on.
–
Not five steps away,
I beheld what was
very clearly a
skid mark
that repeated
every three
paces
or
so.
–
I quickly put the
pieces together,
some unfortunate
fellow had stepped
in that
shit
not
far
back
–
And had spent
half a mile
trying to
scuff it off
the bottom
of
his
shoe.
–
I gazed at the
last, short
skid shaking
my head.
Surely, this
was a
commentary
on
life.
I was in Paris, once,
just a few days.
I didn’t do all the
touristy shit;
the Arc du Triomph,
the Eiffel Tower,
the Louvre.
–
Instead, I went down
to Pigalle, where the
streets are a litany
of porno shops.
I bought myself
a vibrator
and
some lube.
–
Then went back to
my closet of
an apartment
and had a
good fuck
on the
lice
ridden
bed.