Predator

Tongue picture

 

My tongue has tips

Just full of quips.

They dance there unrequited.

My tongue makes slips

That curl my lips

And make me seem benighted.

It bathes within my mouth in spit

Lurking there in malice

Full of wicked impulses

Like an upper phallus.

It never foregoes chances that

Might embarrass me

But, sometimes, when my mind goes blank

It releases something savoir faire,

Gives up the chance to harass me

And, chuckling, retreats to its lair.

 

 

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