floppy disks and stamps you lick

there’s meat in my milkshake
baby there’s plenty for you
to differentiate
like fact from fiction
in this metaphysical masturbation
as it splatters
as bugs on windshields
on your solid truth

i see there’s stallion in your glue
and the stamps you lick
to clumsily adhere
to your letters to god
are riddled with
floppy disks
and abandoned diagrams
from 1982

with each unloading
a monkey falls from the trees
honeybees go for the pollen
as you finger me
relentlessly
until my eyes sputter milk

and then i can see through your
tightened skin
the suit you wore
when your were using your lungs
now the bones
are ground into the soul
the glue is dried
and the letter is lost

as i gag on your appendages
or whatever you wanted it to be
the pleasure was all mine

i opened your programs
on a commodore 64
just to remember
the isolation
byte by byte
as you went down my
blistering cock

floppy disks and stamps you lick

Jason Franklin

Springboro, United States

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

Get what you want from it. A poem about masturbation or computers.

,
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

10% off

for joining the Redbubble mailing list

Receive exclusive deals and awesome artist news and content right to your inbox. Free for your convenience.