Jan. 16/2002

I think you're explosive;
A time bomb, in truth.
A treacherous 'bad-boy'
Allergic to couth,
Strutting around tiptoe
And playing with fire.
Screaming and cross-eyed
With listless desire.
Don't let me drool in your coffee,
If the opportunity arises.
I won't jump in your lap,
Though I hold some surprises.
You might need to help me
Pick up my jaw.
You might need to keep me
From sucking you raw.
A slap across the face,
I think would do the trick.
A slap in the behind
Would prove you're a prick
And cause me to rip off
Your puny-ass dick.