Monster

About that photo in your wallet
of yer so called girlfriend. It’s easy to see
you made that up in Photoshop
from a selection of boobs, arses,
legs, and blonde looks
from a one stop
body shop porn site. She’s a sight!
If you saw her coming in real life
you’d run a mile.

I had no idea
that Dr Frankenstein had made
a bride, who then had Quasimodo’s
love child. Then again your taste
in women always was a little strange.

Do you remember
that immensely fat fat bird? I’m sure
you do, you raved that getting laid
was cluck-tastic what with her making
all them chicken noises, and pounds
and pounds of tit, so much you didn’t
know what to do with it, but I bet
in the morning your face
was a right flash bang photograph.

Then there was the bald-headed bird
who took off her wig
then took out her teeth:
you had her Mondays, Wednesdays, and
Sunday lunchtimes, said there was something
about the blow jobs you couldn’t resist.

There was also girl with no legs,
you cruelly joked
that after you’d done the business
she move around the bedroom
like a snail.
And, sad to say, let’s not forget
the poor girl with elephantiasis,
doggie style with yer eyes closed
solved a multitude of uncomfortable
prospects. Oh yeah,
there was also the incredibly ugly
fifty five year old tranny
with hairy arms and stubble chin;
you have no shame, you even had him!

But, and this is what I don’t understand,
it’s always you that gets the elbow
the old heave-ho.
I don’t think you’re quite as good,
in-out speaking,
as you like to make out.
Let’s face it, your nothing to shout about,
so when it comes
to cut and paste Photoshop creations
yer all mouth and trousers
and a cunt of a dick head twat.

by P.A. Levy