In Defense of The Marine…
Any of you dumpsters that The Marine has decided to forgive (because it is obviously your fucking fault) you can eat the taint part of my ass…that’s right, the part between the back of my fucking nuts and the tip of my asshole (the same part I used to rub on Fathead’s phone while he slept because it is hilarious to think he’ll be having phone sex with Beth and he’ll be tasting my taint (ahh…the taint, almost as deadly as the bohemious (the area of hair above your ass crack and below your lower back where often the hairs will collect sweat)) or you can deep throat my cock (balls deep please). Seriously, if you are making him feel bad then I am going to stomp your chode. You broke our hearts, we broke yours…I think it is defined as life. Fucking dumpsters. If, however you weren’t a dumpster then good day to you sir, ma’am, miss, Mrs. Whoever. We knew it, you knew it. That is the game we play. However, there are no winners…only losers. With a capital fucking L cut through the center of your heart or my heart or your friend’s heart or the heart of an unknown stranger who just so happens to get caught in the crossfire and takes it in the heart and bleeds onto their shoes and gets pissed because they were brand new fucking Jordans and even though that fucking bastard gambles and smokes Cubans and beats his wife he is still pissed because he broke two Bens on them a week ago and now he has his blood all over them but they get over it rather quickly (quickly like a two dollar hoe bag sucking you off in the back ally of Burger King but she has to move on because Ron is there bobbing some twelve-year-old’s penis while feeding his puppy Jr. Bacon Cheese burgers from Wendys (I know he is behind Burger King but Ron Loves the Wendys almost as much as he likes getting rammed by men) when a worker comes out and sees the wrappers from Wendys on the ground and then they call the cops not because of the deep throating (as deep as you can go on a little boy (I was hung like a champ at twelve (just ask Eugine))) but because of the two dollar hoe that’s got your nuts in her throat and your spooge in her eye) because after they see their own blood oozing all over their kicks they die and I’m smiling “from a good safe distance” - thank you Tool (I don’t like the sight of blood, yours, or mine) because I rather enjoy the heartbreak, yours, mine, or theirs.
Robert, that was a mouth full. I’m talking Ron Jermy Banana Cock full, where when the cock is inserted it curves up the throat and tickles the back of the nose and the eye sockets. That guy’s got a cock to be jealous of, almost as much as fucking Tommy Lee. Robert fucking Robert, that thing would kill given the chance and the proper fuck position.
Seriously, the days of old are just that. Can you be sorry? Sure, and probably should be. But we move on, on both sides. We learn from them all. For instance, let me educate some learning to you. Lets take Dumpster A. for example. Dumpster A enjoys you (insert any name). Dumpster A. laughs at your jokes, enjoys your presence, takes time out of her day to visit you at work, answers the door to the apartment naked and takes you roughly on the floor, goes down on you while you are trying on pants in a department store, buys you thoughtful gift for your birthday, jesusmas, or random days in between, is all around the best thing anyone could ask for (I will at this time suggest that if you (again, you is a relative term) feel this way you will also find that after ripping through dumpster after dumpster they might all see to be perfect but you will find flaws in each one, escalating with each dumpster to the point where you are only involved because of the sex, or the potential for sex (or for the potential for the sex with her sister, or her sisters’ friend) when it only becomes necessary to avoid any relationship of meaning, unless the relationship is worth the bullet to the brain) but Dumpster A. will slowly want to suck on other people’s cock and Dumpster A. isn’t going to tell you that when she is with her friends she is really going down on someone else and she’ll chew some gum and she’ll come home with her throat coated in seaman and she’ll kiss you and she’ll go to sleep and you’ll wonder why she hasn’t fucked you like she meant it in a month. So you dump the Dumpster and move on to Dumpster B. but you can’t trust her because of Dumpster A.’s love of cock so you can’t treat her like she should be treated. Soon enough you are on Dumpster C.3, having gone through the alphabet three times you’ve realized that it is all not worth the time spent, the money spent, the bailing on your friends (who understand but are required by law to give you shit about it), the bailing on the shit you want to do, the cheating on your hand because you spent so much time rearranging her organs on her Daddy’s couch while he was asleep upstairs and you’d look over at the dog and wonder if he could talk, would he rat you out? The lesson is we can’t take what happened with Dumpster A. and hold it against Dumpster C.3. And they wont hold it against us. It might be the single hardest thing to bring to a relationship other than what you got working below the belt - say no more! Robert, I swear, the best solution is to think that yesterday never existed, and plan on forgetting anything that will happen tomorrow.
A few lines, since I know how much you crave it from behind…
She stopped your breathing
With her mouth with little consequence
Like the spinning tires after the collision,
The high beams still burning
Only pointed into the tree-tops from the ditch.
And when she asked you if you were alright
You could only smile.
Robert, that was a mouth full. I’m talking Ron Jermy Banana Cock full, where when the cock is inserted it curves up the throat and tickles the back of the nose and the eye sockets. That guy’s got a cock to be jealous of, almost as much as fucking Tommy Lee. Robert fucking Robert, that thing would kill given the chance and the proper fuck position.
Seriously, the days of old are just that. Can you be sorry? Sure, and probably should be. But we move on, on both sides. We learn from them all. For instance, let me educate some learning to you. Lets take Dumpster A. for example. Dumpster A enjoys you (insert any name). Dumpster A. laughs at your jokes, enjoys your presence, takes time out of her day to visit you at work, answers the door to the apartment naked and takes you roughly on the floor, goes down on you while you are trying on pants in a department store, buys you thoughtful gift for your birthday, jesusmas, or random days in between, is all around the best thing anyone could ask for (I will at this time suggest that if you (again, you is a relative term) feel this way you will also find that after ripping through dumpster after dumpster they might all see to be perfect but you will find flaws in each one, escalating with each dumpster to the point where you are only involved because of the sex, or the potential for sex (or for the potential for the sex with her sister, or her sisters’ friend) when it only becomes necessary to avoid any relationship of meaning, unless the relationship is worth the bullet to the brain) but Dumpster A. will slowly want to suck on other people’s cock and Dumpster A. isn’t going to tell you that when she is with her friends she is really going down on someone else and she’ll chew some gum and she’ll come home with her throat coated in seaman and she’ll kiss you and she’ll go to sleep and you’ll wonder why she hasn’t fucked you like she meant it in a month. So you dump the Dumpster and move on to Dumpster B. but you can’t trust her because of Dumpster A.’s love of cock so you can’t treat her like she should be treated. Soon enough you are on Dumpster C.3, having gone through the alphabet three times you’ve realized that it is all not worth the time spent, the money spent, the bailing on your friends (who understand but are required by law to give you shit about it), the bailing on the shit you want to do, the cheating on your hand because you spent so much time rearranging her organs on her Daddy’s couch while he was asleep upstairs and you’d look over at the dog and wonder if he could talk, would he rat you out? The lesson is we can’t take what happened with Dumpster A. and hold it against Dumpster C.3. And they wont hold it against us. It might be the single hardest thing to bring to a relationship other than what you got working below the belt - say no more! Robert, I swear, the best solution is to think that yesterday never existed, and plan on forgetting anything that will happen tomorrow.
A few lines, since I know how much you crave it from behind…
She stopped your breathing
With her mouth with little consequence
Like the spinning tires after the collision,
The high beams still burning
Only pointed into the tree-tops from the ditch.
And when she asked you if you were alright
You could only smile.