Molière is having a soirée!
He invited me, I’m Rio Marè
He’s holding it in the underground church
Where the wartime fruitbats lurch.
He serves up shots of tequila-milk
Which crackle in the throat and taste like filth
And at about a
He made an honorary pass at me.
“Being a sailor is a profession, not a career,” (he said)
As he stroked the cum on his mushroom head
And I felt a tingle in my sexual cells
And I showed him how to ring my blueberry bells.
We each had a bolus of mianserin
And he said, “It’s all about connecting things,”
As he carefully joined together two spider webs
With his gentle, sticky fingers.