I am a cunning linguist but it’s not my mother’s tongue
I’m orally fixated and there’s stories to be spun
So sit and let my dirty mouth amuse you for a while
And if it doesn’t turn you on then I am not your style
For every poet needs to find his tongue in someone’s ear
And if I can’t seduce you what’s the point of being here
I’ll nibble oh so gently but if you aren’t biting back
I think we must acknowledge it’s not poetry we lack
Though if my words can get inside and fuck your sexy brain
I know that I can spend my rhyme and I can come again
I’m not averse to pen and ink can I tattoo your heart
And if you let me cut you I can promise you’ll be art
So put your piece into my mouth and let me follow through
My cunning tongue is yours so let me linger over you


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