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Monday, January 5, 2015


Everywhere handbags
Hanging in my closet
And off of my face
Handbags made of hands
It's a horror movie disgrace

The cloth ones are so casual
In patterns so swell
I fill them with hobos and sell them to seashells
Full of bits of Sally from the sea shore

It all happened in a rage after one too many tongue twisters

Faux patent leather vinyl affairs are for looking trashy
When only looking trashy will do
With oversized glasses reflecting my eyes back at me
Matching all the stares I get with my matching outfit

A single piece shiny red pvc suit
With a six by six golden fucking buckle baby

Leather purses smell of Coach hell
Where things are a bit expensive for bits of flayed cow
And the stitching and latches are guaranteed for life
Which is a living if you can call it that
Stuffed with my shoplifted 'purchases'
Smuggled back to my mansion in the hills
Hiding from the paparazzi beneath an oversized hat
As I hustle across crosswalks in broad daylight
Unshaven legs propping up a crossdressed Prada delight

Such things make me feel pretty oh so pretty

In such a hurry to get back to my flat
So full of handbag finery
It vomits out of my mouth from overstuffed belly
Swollen with handbag delight
The swag of Rodeo drive in my gullet
Paid for with my good looks hauled by a pair of meathooks
In most gruesome fashion from a runway in Paris
Shown in an oversized handbag palace
Where the waiters are walking wallet advertisements
Touting the champagne pissed by chimps in Paraguay
Collected by the natives upon the jungle floor
Sold by the ounce to discerning sets of jowls that jounce
In our cocktail dresses red as lipstick
Beards upon our man boobs
Hems barely long enough to hide our dicks

Everywhere handbags
Woven of the hair of sinners and saints
Stretched on the racks of the rude
Ejected from the show for talking too loudly
Chewing their popcorn a bit awful proudly
We grow their hair like Rapunzel's
Till it gets fed into the loom machines
Powered by steam engines in the basement
Leather belts flying everywhere
Threatening the limbs of the children
Whose fingers are the only ones delicate enough
To weave the handbags we hold so dear

And it matches your dress
It really does
Now wax that mustache high into the air with a prayer
And give us a deep tongue kiss