A poem by Elaine Benes
I’ve “yada yada’d” sex. Perhaps one day when the pigmen roam free it will be stopped. Until then — off with their heads.
I make up stories to get ahead in line at bakeries. I once broke up with someone for not offering me pie.
I just couldn’t decide if he was really sponge-worthy.
Sometimes when I think you’re the shallowest man I’ve ever met you somehow manage to drain a little more out of the pool.
Boys are sick. I hate men, but im not a lesbian. I don’t have one female friend left.
Is it possible I’m not as attractive as I think I am? What am I, a hooker?
I’m queen of the castle! I’m a walking candy apple! I don’t have grace, I don’t want grace, I don’t even say it, ok?
Well, I’m going to hell
Blah Blah Blah
I don’t care.
Give me twenty bucks.