Boy-Toy

((Pretty Boy))

Boy-Toy


Whisper to me sweetly, and I won't tell a soul…

Tell me what you want, I'll give you what I know.

Boy to boy, Toy to toy-

All the things that scare you, you'll soon love to enjoy.

Listen to me,

And you will see.

Shut up little liar!

After this, you'll desire me.


Black spikes just long enough to curl around your pinky finger-

deliciously messy like a hurricane in Atlantis; foul play.

He was in no way feminine-

but the predatorily lusting hunger in his eyes offer the invitation to sin

and to sin beautifully indeed.

Though willowy thin with delicate ribcage and hip bones

you'd love to outline(highlight) with your razorblade tongue.

Fingernails to bite off and eyes of blackblue to fuck in,

like misery loves company and hate breaths passion.


Take him, break him-

Soon you'll love him.

Break him, shake him;

Bleed him, need him;

Scratch him, trash him;

fuck him;


Listen to the pretty one scream.


Break him, shake him;

Bleed him, need him;

Scratch him, trash him;

fuck him;


Something Willy Wonka meets Jack Sparrow style:

He who is eccentric, unstable, a tempter,

A loser, a winner, a god and a mortal.

Get lost in that thieving smirk that

-Knows- you can't help but stare.

A reflection of you:

Everything you won't admit to NEED, and nothing you hide.


Walk this way, I'll show you who I am.


The arch of his spine when lacking-

his normal 'suck me' like company t-shirt

has this beautiful little hollow spot between each connecting vertebrae

that reminds me of the O in a t-bone steak,

the smallest little dip in pale skin-

mouth watering lip licking unforgiven temptation of a higher class.

Don't die before you give in.

Keep your eyes on the canvas of life,

Scorned with perfection; tattoos and piercings,

Raging uniqueness to make even your father squeal with envy.


Shake him, break him,

Soon you'll hate him.

Break him, shake him;

Bleed him, need him;

Scratch him, trash him;

fuck him;


Listen to the pretty one scream.


Break him, shake him;

Bleed him, need him;

Scratch him, trash him;

fuck him;

Soon you'll hate him,


For his self-destructive-innocent-uncaring-ignorance

That makes him not give a rats ass about religion

And Politics' reign of terror against his kind-

That disease of self-destructive-innocent-uncaring-ignorance

Devouring you to his liking.

Infectious human waste, Ohhh…

But you can't wait to get your nails into his skin

And rip it back to see what he's made of.

The faggot you'd like to fuck.


((Pretty boy))

Boy-Toy


Uneven black painted, chipped nails waving your fantasy goodbye;

goodbye sweet lover…

Goodbye you homophobic slut.

Goodbye.


You want me, you just can't have me…

I'm your

((Pretty boy))

Boy-Toy

Nightmare.

-Unfortunate Soul


Author's note: I have a love/hate relationship with this poem.. if you could really even classify it as such? It is, in a nutshell, the gay guy that would make any straight man turn his head. You want to fuck him, or -be- him. He's a nightmare come true, the one thing to make you reconcider everything and flare with desire- to break you down and realign just where your 'morals' and 'ideals' stand... hell, I don't know what its about......