Tuche & Automaton

Saturday, July 22, 2006

a septic cunt

she KNEW the language of chickens
and she could make her pussy talk.
does your pussy talk?
does your pussy talk?

nothing left for her now though just the aftertaste of an old romance and the bitter dawn of yet another day.
another day full of cigarette smoke and stale bourbon with dreams of idle hours wasted beneath a gothic statue of some antique, and long forgotten, saint or sinner.
she has known all the saints and sinners and lets face it, sin is just a concept.

a cuncept.
a cunts septic.
a septic cunt.
words by cocaine jesus