Wednesday, August 31, 2016


Our Proper Young Woman

Isn't. Just the once.

Resulting in tears thereafter.

The Artist builds her a Mask of Shame.

And she, heaving, soaks that.

Most of the rest of us act badly then.

Rip off the mask and piss on it!

There had been some drinking.

“So, there's no Moral Code anymore?”-from
our Supreme Ethicist later.

"There may be, but we prefer our woman
to your sick ideas."

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