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"My roomPadded wallsSteel doorLockedMy bedStrapsMy jacket3 foot sleevesstrapped tight in backBed strapsCriss-Crossed across my bodyTightMy 80 year-old breastsTwo feet long, drooping1/2 inch thickCompressed against my abdominal paunchRASH - SCREAMING for releaseDepends overflowingNot able to empty or wipeThrow-up breakfast in mouth against electro-shock therapy rubber damn in mouthBecomes evening dinnerLet's make bread"
Oh, Great Merciful Zeus...It's shit like this that gives me flashbacks. I used to work as an assistant editor (meaning: smegma technician) at one of those free liberal rags every large city has, and part of my job was wallowing through schlock like this that the area moonbats would send in, mistaking themselves for writers.
I'm guessing it's either a bottle of gin or the cat.
Wow!!Somebody broke into the Thorazine locker...
I'm thinking something battery-operated.
Probably why she's writing bad poetry...the battery died!Cindie
I can say with all seriousness that Cpeg will not be among those that I select for DUmmy of the year. S/he will not even make a token appearance. S/he just isn't DOY material
You're right! I'm pretty sure it would take NASA in order to figure out what "material" her poems come from!