Writing will save me. Africans don’t get depressed. Witches have gaps between their teeth. You are from a book. My friend fucked an ass like yours. In the porn we are making you will suck me off. Peaches can’t be rimmed. Nor plums. Teabags hold dregs. You pee standing up. But you don’t dress left. When you left I felt bereft. And then fucked your chair. You are sitting on my cum. Or the remains of a wet fart. Gummy. You wear white socks. I almost didn’t choose you. But you are cheap. And bald men turn me on. Fuck me daddy.
When I was 7 I wore my sister’s wet period panties. I have blue balls. And then I was circumcised. But it had already happened. Blood doesn’t scare me. When I was fucking him blood was pouring out. He said he didn’t like to smear shit. That was his problem. If you fuck through shit you feel warm like susu is coming out and then the friction is not so much. I pick up men at the STI clinic. Sexy. Treated. Infectious. But only the guys who are there for the first time. Holding their thick balls and creamy cocks. I sit in the bathroom and watch them pee. And then I lick them clean. I’m from Africa. American germs are scared of me. My sister’s period panties had lace. It was scratchy. I don’t wear underwear. If you fuck me then I will be fucked. But if I fuck you then I will have fucked. It’s like algebra. When you add letters they multiply. I like to fuck in dark corners. My best fuck was on New Years Eve. I fucked him till the year came. His ass was like yours. Can I touch it. If you touch me I shall scream. Now I am wet. The mood at New Years is always fucked. My sister’s period panties had white lace and blue flowers. Green leaves and clot prints. If you put them in a museum they will be art. My sister is an accountant. She started by counting her panties. The dry ones and then the wet ones and then the period ones and then the lace ones and then the ones with blue flowers. She does not like blue flowers. They are ugly. Shit happens. But if it happens too often then you have eaten raw mangoes. And you need to wipe with soft green leaves. Sometimes fleas will crawl in your buttocks. And then you will walk kapa-kapa-kapa-kapa like a dog with blue balls. At the STI clinic you can tell the men with blue balls. They are so horny they fuck the cotton swab when it goes into their urethra. One guy is famous for cumming when the swab is in one and a half inches. Not one. Not two. Not one and three quarters. One and a half. The nurses wear masks and giggle. If you have two left feet then you can always find the lost and found.
Writing will save me. Africans don’t chew gum. Africans chew khat. Africans swallow and spit. Africans like to lick their own things. Africans grow their own things. Africans are thing-like with their things. African things are always growing. Africans grow to lick their things. Africans lick to grow their things. Africans things are licking things. Africans licking things grows things. African things lick growing things.
When I was 5 the maid fucked the gardener and made ooi ooi noises. I made ooi ooi noises. She made ooi ooi noises. Like ooi ooi noises. Then she left us to find Jesus in a headscarf.
The watchman is tired of watching tv from the veranda and is scratching his balls. His balls are full. His balls are full from watching tv from the veranda. And also because he forgot to take his yellow pills from the STI clinic. He thinks he forgot to take his pills from the STI clinic. I stole them. I stole them so he could scratch his balls and go back to the STI clinic and get licked. And then maybe he will get another cotton swab down his urethra and blind the nurse. The male nurse likes to get blinded by globs. He smiles when he licks his lips and shakes his fat ass. Shaking that ass shaking that ass. He thinks his ass shakes. It shakes like cream on top of strong tea. His ass is a marimba. But he thinks it’s a balafon. I like drum asses. Not round. Not tight. Loud like Akorinos fucking the holy ghost. The watchman is a Mkorino. I know because his cock has a turban.
The man on the other side of the mirror is laughing ke ke ke with American corn teeth. The chickens are plotting how to eat his teeth.
When you reach the number seven the picture will fall from the wall and the portrait will be broken. If you reach the number seven again the family will get scabies and they will scratch away their inheritance. As you reach seven again the walls will start to wilt and the wood will grow knottier. At the end of the seventh time when you reach the seventh line and the seventh man has been licked by the seventh attendant the murram sky will rain weevils and the earth will be fortified. We will build chitin cities and thorax fortresses. Scalpel old futures from twitter antennae. Your hairy peaches will be eaten by an army of termite-trained acolytes. And the ashes from your grandmother’s hearth will waltz in time to Daddy Cool.