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Chat Chat Chat: Fun Times!

Sunstone

Sunstone

De Diablo Del Fora
Premium Member
Her twisted desire for ever more and thicker
Stick figure drawings of my penis
Was such that it soon became impossible
For me to enter the Chat Room
Without the screen immediately popping up
With her pet name for me, “Pookie”,
Followed by an alarming torrent
Of painfully spiky exclamation points.

I wanted to tell her,
“The world has no heroes.”,
But she’d been raised up unholy
By a clan of ideologically motivated
Professional toenail painters
To deny her true passions in life
And become no more to a man
Than a fine arts groupie.

Naturally she recognized in me
An important contemporary master.
Yet, she didn’t fully surrender her heart,
Complete and whole,
Until that night in private chat
When I messaged her:

"The best damn
Swiss yodeling-tongue kiss
Ever".

Followed by a fertile abundance
Of spiky exclamation points
That I sent merely to increase
Her afterglow.
 
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Sunstone

Sunstone

De Diablo Del Fora
Premium Member
In my town they hate the Chat Room
With it’s wild and it’s wanton ways.

There is a man in my town on Heaven
Who glues down the furniture in his yard at midnight
And wants to rape every daughter on Hell Street,
Who all say they’re daughters of his god.

And I know these people are taken
But with their lord and with no one else.
And I do believe they’re mistaken
When they say it’s all morals and it’s never love.

And they don’t like it and say I throw sticks.
And they don’t like it and say I throw stones.
In fact, they just don’t like it if it isn’t their eternal home.
 
Sunstone

Sunstone

De Diablo Del Fora
Premium Member
I studied fine arts at the College of Whitmore and Perkins
Where my professors described me as “irresponsible”,
And , “A disgrace to the Masters”,
But admitted not their envy of my emotionally brilliant
Macramé sculptures of celebrity digestive tracts.

Naturally, my works were conjectural interpretations,
Yet, the public expected them to be representational.

I felt misunderstood and refused to cater to such vulgarity .

Consequently, I was devastated when one night by email
Doppelganger confessed to me, after swilling too much
Morgan Davis 20/20, that he had employed my freely given
Gift to him of Johnny Depp’s finely-knotted intestines
To hang his potted plants from the ceiling of a mere bathroom.

Our estrangement endured far too long for me,
But we at last reconciled in Chat when he confided
That the daily sight of Depp’s intestines had in time
Inspired him to mail a deer’s carcass to croak
For her hatchday.
 
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