Sonnet #95 by FisherKingKQJ
That cell phone chirps out another crisis,
And doctors tote their flybuys to Club Med,
On lithium there's far too much emphasis,
To gay and loving housecalls I've been led.
I hug close this drunk in her single bed,
This Confucian blob whose wedding photos
Depict a slim, teen, her own teeth, self sped
By booze from shy to frequent comatose.
My love's blue gin botanical sweat flows,
To my lips her breasts licorice exude,
Her coriander throat siphons up my nose,
Her juniper earlobes to my tongue glued.
Colleague male nurses snort their poopoo,
Being two faced lovers of a beer shampoo.
{3D interactive chorus:}
Colleague male nurses snort their poopoo.
Colleague male nurses snort their dismiss.
Colleague male nurses snort their loathing.
[Corrected for typeset and rhythm 4/10/05.]