It's a three million dollar desk
Inside you keep your gun
your cocaine
your pornographic magazines
of young asain boys
getting fucked
by old american men
You reach for your cocaine
but there's nothing you can do
you don't want to stain
that piece of shit
desk
that everyone told you was worth so much
You reach for your pornography
with itchy hands and a hard dick
but you wouldn't dare to pull your wrinkled foreskin back
a small piece of pre-cum
might splatter against the wood
and start to sink in
You'd blow your fucking brains out
and try and escape this shithole
but that would fuck the desk up
even worse than the cum
So you rotate
with a blank expression
around a common center of mass
between here and the sun
So you rotate
with a shitstained smile
around a common center of mass
between the sun and the galactic core
And you wonder why you spent
so much money
on enslaving yourself
Author notes
No cussing=no fun
A contest entry
- Federal Reserve and Jekyell Island & The New World Order by guardianhost.
1665 points, ended August 28, 7 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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We certainly have made a mess of this planet and wasted great opportunities to live on a higher level.
Aside from your graphic use of foul profanites. I see your point. -
don't tell anybody, but call me.
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You go dude!
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I wonder if she will remove this. LOL
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Especially since this piece of poetry holds so much of it's authors essence ,
I feel it would not serve any purpose to delete the poem - as it is a direct entry of what they must deem a true reflection of the contest topic. Following respect given to what is other wise not given.
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