bowel movement at 10AM

she hikes her dress just enough for boys to see her
white laced panties and the star tattoos on her
left thigh.

she lets all the boys in the yard feel her,
hold her in their undying attempts in love.

she smells of the sweetest flowers
(i hate her smell)
and has the up to date dresses.

she sits at the back of the crowd
and has boys kiss her
because she knows they want to
and she knows all they do
is
wish they can do more.

and while i write about her
looking at her flaunt her dress
hiking that dress up just a bit more
just enough to see the cracks of her skin
and the darkest hole in hell
i feel a bowel movement within me.
it's time
to turn this
bitch
into literature.