mole hill throne

i write bad poetry,

i write bad poetry

all the time,

but i sit upon

this mole hill

like a fucking king

looking down on

you ants

scattered about,

scavenging

for your Queen,

while i type

inconsequential words

that only have

consequences

for you;

go gather

me some more

crumbs

and

grass

and

dirt

so i can continue

entertaining

your

Queen.

-JDR-

contemporary mating

dating…

i’ll tinder you,

i’ll match.com you,

i’ll OKcupid you,

i’ll eharmony you,

i’ll [enter ethnicity].com you,

but tell me this one thing

before we go any further,

are we gonna fuck

or

what?

cuz i can just swipe right

to the next one

who’ll most certainly

want to fuck this

royalty,

knighted by the Queen

herself

(pretend royalty, obvs;

it’s the internet…duh),

but i did eat the Queen out,

so that must count for

something;

dry aged pussy –

it’s the new foodie thang,

or will be soon enough.

i’ve always been a trend setter.

-JDR-