Open the pod bay doors.
Mum's a strict width-stickler, When a bloke wants a go on her poo-funicular.
Dad’s up in front of the appeals court His sentence (and penis) β€˜unreasonably short’
Dad finally banned from bra shop, for requesting fittings daily, In vain attempt to reverse willy-faily.
I have to dispute the claim 'You Can't Get Quicker Than a Quick-Fit Fitter,' Your mum sucks off up to 60 blokes an hour (and takes 30 up the shitter).
Mum's eyes start misting, When reminded of the 1983 summer-long Festival of Fisting.
risky coupling with cattle, sphincter bending anal battle.
First light, morning, And bogs-blokes enter a period of mourning, As it's dawning, That mum's arsehole has begun contracting: an 'un-yawning.'
Mum: Donkey Kong, Dad: Pong.
Dad's got another high score on Wordle; Whilst being devastated in the turd hole.
Mum's enlisted farm hands to erect a 'big bog-bloke gantry', With stunning views and ample parking over her fucked piss-pantry.
Poetry Player
Loading tracks...
Poetry Player
Filename will appear here
Total ratings
Loading...
Total views
Loading...
Never
Login to rate and submit clockfuckers