To the Artist's Page To our home page
To Shane Allison's previous piece To Shane Allison's next piece
Cruising I don't have time to suck you off. There are poems to be written. I've got a few pieces in here and the tissue paper isn't thick enough. Use my thighs like a table cloth writing about cute white boys, the bubble-butts of frat boys. I'm not interested in getting fucked in the ass when there are poems on toilet stalls that are going to make me famous, get me into Hollywood parties. I'm gonna be a gay icon. I don't have time for this right now. You gotta nice dick dude but I'm composing masterpieces at the moment. I have barefooted, blond haired sonnets to bring into this world. Trying to scratch blue inked love poems on my hand before I forget all the good lines. I wish I could stay longer. I wish I had time to fuck your face, taste the sweetness of your semen, shove finger in pink bumhole, slurp your ass like the meat from an oyster's shell, but these need to be typed and submitted to the proper magazines and on-line journals.
To the top of this page