A Dripping Sugary Love Drool Ballad

note the fluffy sugary love drool that is dripping... dripping... dripping...






Dripping fluffy sugary drool
only adds to our totally amazing love
and makes me dizzy-
I will never wake again
with the same desires.
la la la

To stand next to the
Ren and Stimpy blow-up dolls at the fair
and dance happy happy joy joy
with two holes in our pirate underwear
is what I fantasize.
woo woo woo

In the kitchen pimpin’ Rudolph
to screaming porn stars
who need crotch deodorant
for their wooly mammoths.
la la la

Whew. Whiff the stench!
ya ya yah

I think I’ll visit my old girlfriend,
that ragdoll you tossed in the garbage can
so you could have my glistening torso,
my electric touch, and my fiery unbridled cascading waves
of sweaty sizzling works of seduction
from my clammy ham
on those lazy, hot watermelon days
when we went two weeks without pay.
hmm hmm hmm

Reminds me of the time we spent twinkling
in different positions in our enormous castle in Fairytopia,
hiding from the beautiful goddesses
who lived in the lush green foliage eating honeydew and bananas
and who wanted to leave boot prints on our behinds,
but fell flat on their faces when they tried to fly
because they had tiny wings of glistening gossamer.
mmm mmm mmm

We laughed as you held my beer
as I raced my tractor around the lawn
At 2 miles per hour.
Yeeeeha!

Then winter came, collecting on splintered windowsills
while children frolicked on pristine mounds
of lemony yellow snow.
'Watch out where the doggies go...'
doo doo dooo

We watched a bunch of movies over the weekend
before we started our new jobs on Monday
hunting down the panda that shoot up cafes-
the one who eats, shoots, and leaves.
yah yah yah

Between our tattered torn strands of time
we sewed our lips to one another's with ivory satin edging
so we could forever taste our memories that stitched us together
and our tiny feet we wear around our necks
would be close to each other
until we’re old and gray
and are cuddling up with pumpkin pie
and napping off the turkey feast.
hey hey hey

That we’d eat again at 9 PM
though we were plump and out of milk and potato boats.
Monday sucks.
We couldn’t sell any asthma products-
the old farts couldn’t hear us
and their glasses broke.
Then we lost cable.
woo woo woo

No matter, we were hit by hell-on-eighteen-wheels
and were assumed dead upon impact,
twisted beyond recognition
and staining the bumper.
ooo ooo ooo

But with love’s doves and giggle’s wiggles
we came out of our comas,
during which there were crimson images spinning out of control
along with your moans of “so bite my rosy white azz”
floating like silken wisps and fluttering down to the playground,
which Peanut heard and came running in from the pouring rain
and said “there’s no hot chocolate here”.
Distant rumblings off toward the horizon
From the volcano turned out be your sweet ass gas-
the repetitive sounds of your rump thumping driving me insane
Like a wind-up kids toy.
Flat-crack flatulence with bun bubbles-
the stench floated past my immobilized nostrils.
My eyes watered. Simply annoying.
doo doo doo

We had a torrid one-night love affair
with chocolate-dipped brownkies,
those tortured Twinkies on Happy Sweetest Day.
We shared rambunctious chatter
and ripe juicy peaches
amid splintered slivers of luminescent dreams
where you were a trophy whore
with no shame.
Just a night of fun with no strings attached.
yeah yeah yeah

That incredible kiss
with the fluffy sugary drool created one hell of a mess,
but I was in Latino heat-
it was a Texas bullrope match trying to get to your snatch,
I suffered countless senseless pains
but I tried again and again- I made a mad dash with a frog splash
and finally reached the sweet nectar from your soft insides
and my acidic tongue was the perfect blend
for the fruity punch.
woo woo woo

Oh how I loved my Dove then
against the wetness and odor
in that hairiest of situations-
scented like a baby’s butt, not your butt,
on that drunken night, that plastered night.
What a disgrace in spite of my sparkling sapphire eyes-
Me, the insensitive bastard tearing holes in your heart
because I never saved you any rotisserie chickens
with bikini suntans.
la la la

In years to come I point out bright constellations to you,
two soulmates spread out across the inky sky of an onyx,
with spiced cider intended for our great-grandchildren being imbibed while watching Papa Smurf screw all the little blue sluts
until grief babbled from our eyes,
while our rotting, putrid flesh slipped away
into puddles of sorrow at our feet.
woo woo woo

Drowning slowly in taco-flavored kisses
we defeated many rat creatures
though I was attracted to women with big... um, lips,
turning you into a tortured soul.
I watched buckets of your essence spill onto the hardwood,
out from your lovely neck
which was ripped clean away. I begged to die,
but your scarlet smile wouldn’t let me,
so I deflowered you with hardened slaps
as we lay there in the cellar.
yo yo yo

It just wasn’t our time to die, though we tried.
Oh how we tried- with hot pokers in our emerald eyes,
sitcoms in our brains,
and jumping into a pot of Draino on the kitchen table-
but you were pregnant, so we didn’t.
wah wah wah

This caused bitter smiles and tear-stained hands,
though I couldn’t help gazing at the leggy blond
as I wiped away the frozen droplets of infidelity
from my smile…
 
We were just geeks in love-
our pocket protectors blew chunks of duck tape
From our glasses, causing us to fail the math test.
Our hopes came crashing down like Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent
chasing those heartless cunts
to the point of my wanting to watch them bleed
at a chinese buffet on steamed white rice and shrimp chow mein,
but instead they just stood there
and drooled dripping fluffy sugary love drool
and peed helplessly into their pants.
wee wee wee

I'd say they had attitudes that stunk of feces
and hid great sex toys that substituted for the feminine wiles
that were their woes,
all in the land of omegawolves and onyxdragons.
That’s why the women loves those men, just loves them,
Not because of their big, fantastic butts, the earrings,
And the milky goatees,
or the ability to make even the darkest days sunny
with toilet humor while eating a green and glossy cucumber,
but because they were, in fact, perfectly matched,
even at Trivial Pursuit.

It was love, it was fate
on that Beantown sailboat race day
on the back bay near Fenway
when cats dressed up as frogs
and people wore red socks, saying
“Take these horrid things away with the taco dogs on parade...”
We were not able to withstand the torture anymore
and their moans were sweet music to our slippery wet ears
which were filled with our dripping fluffy sugary love drool.
hoo hoo hoo

Such sweet torture, our climax was imminent
but you ruined it with your lesbian lip lock on my inviting crevice.
I stood in stripped seduction
staring at your beautiful round breasts with taut nipples.
This gave me deep psychological scars and throbbing bones,
a torment so real yet it remained hidden under my black canvas sack
of steel gray smoke.
Don’t like it? Then shove it up your ass!
woo woo woo

You treated me like scum faking your headaches
and your sweaty, hairy body on top of me like a shaggy carpet.
If I wanted a carpet I would have bought one!
And those slimy bottom feeders you call your toes-
just give my your pasty white pussy, I don’t care about your
gay leprechaun tattoos on your ankle,
though they give me mixed feelings- as dark clouds loom overhead
like ebony ink bleeding my soul and questioning my worth
with harsh winds colder than despair.
mmm mmm mmm

Then you give me encouragement without the erotica
and with correct spelling, and without the suicide.
I cry for help and pay dearly for my mistakes,
being tossed into the darkness,
but I will survive
since I found you here shaking your beautiful ass
with my manly snow blower.
So that’s what happened to my socks!
I'm too horny to care.
yea yea yea
hey hey hey













End of Part I, 1-89, of the "Seven Epic Adventures of candy177".

Intermission.









Continued With:
Part II, 90-140: The 'Horny for those Two Lumps on your Chest' Ballad

The Other Parts:
Part III, 141-184: Some Serious Poetic Male Passion
Part IV, 185-210: Bold and Spicy- Dark Love
Part V, 211-255: Simple, Quiet Love for a Hopeless, Dark Psychotic
Part VI, 256-334: A Precious Love in Our Fantasy Land
Part VII, 335-380: A Sad Goodbye from a Parallel Path