le petit mort

Definitely not safe for work. :-)

they tell me that I talk about death too much
they tell me that I talk about sex too much
the darkness, the blackness, the wackness, and such
the bump and grind, sixty-nine, and two hand touch
but I get vulgar thinking bout sliding inside of the cut
about licking and nibbling and squeezin a beautiful butt
that's why my poems change up and switch so abrupt
I just like to use my tongue, because it's fun
they say that people die when they come
so I like keeping you on the edge where it's fun
so you're tottering, you're screaming, please, please
for that I'll spend hours on my knees til they bleed
so I talk about sex, and I talk about death
you know, I'm obsessed with the final gasping breath
now, my mom says I'm cocky, I say I'm confident
you say my lyrics too complex I say it's a testament
to the way that play with words, 'cause I'm a nerd
but I want you flying high like you're car-bombed Kurds
I'm always pissed that I can't fit in with the herd
so I sit putting sick sex thoughts to rhythms absurd
if I go down, I need you seeing fireworks
if I'm spitting robots, I want you goin' berserk
either way your mind's a blur 'cause I'm so good it hurts
now you want to laugh at this shit
but look out I'm killin it when I spit
and I'm not gonna quit
I'll rip bout the pit with wicked wit
and slit your clit when I (bite) up your leg a lil' bit
man, I've never got the concept of one night stands
I've got kung fu killer skills in my tongue and my hands
I guarantee, I get repeat business
cuz my tongue, my tongue, my tongue has the quickness
and it knows how to lay a slow rhythm inside
wrap it around the metaphors til the tip slips inside
if it's not my name, I don't really know what you said
your legs are wrapped rigor mortis round my head
that's why you always find teeth marks on my aureola
cuz I'm 99.9% fatal, like I'm motherfucking Ebola
but it's all good, because me, I walk a higher path
I admit that I'm weird, bet it's because of my past
but I will take you to task and rock you like Chinese math
hard as hell while I'm sipping back on a flask
cutting up drunk, in the back of the class
and serving up blood at my own mental mass
– maybe;
I am psychotic for sippin hypnotic
scribbling fit to mix death with erotic
but if you're craving sci-fi thoughts I got it
dreaming of hot sex, already taped it and shot it
just please help me find the rhythm – cuz I lost it
I wonder about fucking someone to death
is that even possible?
how does that happen?
and … could it be fun?
for her, I mean
not in a Serbian, Rwanda-style
you got gang-raped to death
but in a
died of happiness
brain short-circuited
in a grand-mal seizure
composed entirely of orgasm
so powerful
your heart just stops
I wouldn't want to be the survivor
but that
could be hot