While I Type Out This Poetry

"WHILE I TYPE OUT THIS POETRY"


I watch the whore give feeble 
attempts at being a good 
mother but the cock is just 
too important.
as I watch her eat her foul-
tasting food, the cock is 
just too important.
as I watch her stand there 
and hate me with her eyes, 
the cock is just too 
important.
as I watch her stand there in 
her cheap one dollar and 
fifty cent dress she bought 
from the second-hand store, 
the cock is just too 
important.
as her kids that were 
conceived out of attention 
scream in the back room, the 
cock is just too important.
as she calls her bank card to 
reassure herself of the 
amount of money she’s made, 
the cock is just too 
important.
if I asked her what was 
really important, she’d say 
her kids but we all know the 
cock is just too 
important.
filth is her life and 
everything that surrounds it.
call this call of her bull-
!@#$ whatever you want but 
you don’t know the 
whore the way I do.
whores never change, as the 
saying goes: “you can’t turn 
a whore into a house wife.”
never for their children, 
never for the better, the 
only change they make, is the 
location of where they 
consume the cock.
tonight, while I write this 
poetry, the whore who works 
out of the casino grins.
her cocks are on the other 
side of town and she licks 
her lips, waiting to swallow 
the paste that fuels her 
life.


By: Chicano Eddie
6152017
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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