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08/19/26   
French-kissing the Internet's pie-hole since 1999

Marmalade and Lace

by Melissa Torkens
bio/email
August 19, 2002
Marmalade and lace,
I step on your face
as you draw back your bow.
Where's the arrow? I don't know.

These lovers' games without names…
or at least maybe they should be.
"Drunken Pump" robs my dignity,
couldn't we call it "Double Indemnity"?

You Probe me with your Ford
while I hum My Sweet Lord
and your Contours I memorize.
My good name you blasphemise!

We meet in the 'twain
like orchids in the rain,
the drops of which are nearly heard
over the blaring Lynard Skynard.

As you plunge deep into my soul,
in your passion you try the wrong hole.
Will your roguish fingers probe my labia?
Don't be silly, you know what's a labia.
Our souls have spanned all time to be together
and in their unity we will last past forever.
In your ear I gasp to catch breath,
and uh… sure, I guess you can call me Beth..

The stars whisper tonight we will be as one
because I see now that Friends is a re-run.
Your love is too rich to regret…
twenty seconds I will never forget.


Quote of the Day
“How does it feel? To be on your own? With no direction home? Not even an amber alert? And nobody's bound to look in this van, so keep quiet and just try to enjoy yourself.”

-Bobby Molesterman, now doing 15-25
Fortune 500 Cookie
Nobody thought it was funny when you said you snorted your dad's ashes, so it's best not to mention going bowling with your mom's skill—your first instinct was right, nobody gets your sense of humor. Tough love is not the only kind of love, except in prison, so you'd better learn to like it. Lucky Strikes—smoke 'em if you got 'em.


Try again later.
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Your Honor
A little dog choked on a draidel, a ladle, a can of beef stew and a wicker kazoo. His owner, a loner from Kalamazoo, in a wrath drew a bath that he filled up with glue. The soup of white goop he stirred with an oar and what's more he added the... (7/8/02)

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