Happiness is a warm gun

I think I’ll shove one up your ass.

I think I’ll guide one between your legs.

I think I’ll trace your contour with the barrel

I think I’ll plow through the feathers of the down with this steel rod

I think I’ll blast through the night on your bed sheets

I think I’ll enter your soul and make you forget

I think I’ll shoot up tonight

I think I’ll penetrate your mind all night

I think I’ll take this gun and poke you in the back

I think I’ll make you stick it up high

I think I’ll turn you around and make you warm

I think I’ll stare in your eyes and make you cold

I think I’ll slowly make you brace it

I think I’ll quickly make you suck it

I think I’ll show you how to use it

I think I’ll show you how to honor it

I think I’ll make you stroke its weight

I think I’ll make you groan louder at point

I think I’ll deliver it gently

I think I’ll never let it explode again

I think I’ll wish I had it inside

I think I’ll wish I never died

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.01.31.18:49:57@296NYC