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


Published by Andrew Mark Watkins

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