Mon Paree
Oh sweet Paris.
Oh gay and wondrous
streets of Hilton and
horn
check out twice,
the sweet hairs of Paris.
Like a tuft of swarming
black
cracked pepper mice
leaving home,
and walking down the legs,
before getting drenched
with quarterback jizz.
Oh,
sweet Paris!
Oh!
The sweet moans
of gay Paris!
Mon
Paris
The Champs Elysees
has never been
fucked quite as hard
as your
button
cute
little
cunt.
Oh my love,
the love of us all,
the jealous
and the
sick.
Hold your breast,
let it go,
hide your face under the
hotel duvet.
I know you’re sad,
but you don’t show it.
You say,
“This is earth,
isn’t it hot.”
Oh Paris,
my love,
this is about as hot
as I’ll ever get.
Ben John Smith
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