For Sittingnut – A poem by Taprobane Uncut
If I were Salman Butt. I’d offer you my Royal Salman. And leave the smell of butt. With you…….. Your groin and penis will reek. The blind would know you by name. And even they will be able to see. The butt memories of yours. Sweet smell of my butt. Oxygen that keeps you alive…… I will be there. Lovingly in your armpit. Below your belly button. On this crease that cuts your back. On this nipple. Hiding in your pubic hair….. When you decide to wash me off. Dancing in the monsoon rain. Singing like Minister Meryn. I’ll take the thing that is rightfully mine. Which told me it is mine. Love me.