Pretty, pretty boy sing
Pretty, pretty boy spread your wing
Pretty, pretty boy learn how to fly
The swirlies procreate with my devotion.
You’re in motion all around me
Making faces that your pleased to meet me
And your work rate is ferocious.
A bead of sweat leaves my eye
from enscaling your coordinates motion.
Now I wonder what might be
And the swirlies and me get a little sad
for all that stinks and festers isn’t bad
these corpses need their rectal temperature taken
Such an intrusion might make them reawaken.
Me writing a poem and pretending my job is forensic anthropologist!
by Andrew Watkins