women - (ii)

we negotiate treatin' women right
but expect 'em to feed us men 'ight.
hardly we care of their heart
but oft. enjoy having the pleasure of their night.
the goblet of wine...
they are... oft. makes us feel drunk in love
their love be more like marijuana...
being so fed 'pon an every layer of us hove.
their body speaks allot 'bout what they want;
gestures certify what they actually need
we only read the texture of their nakedness
rather understanding the gist of their creed.
the hoes stock beer, cider, perry, and mead
we take women to hotel, & breed
the cede of emotionalism we deny to read
& treat women wrong, perhaps, inadvertently...
just in the greed of something that plead.

an open book. the unread-bible, they are.
non-prioritized antidepressant they heart
& LOL -- the lesson of love is more bizarre.
we're being trapped, & lost, & boasted
in the tormented trauma of their tantrum life.
we oft. treat 'em fuckin' wrong
but, in return, want 'em to feed on us right.
is 'tis 'ight? i ain't know what's wrong, in spite
if the legs're open,
my devil in the hell, we love stretching pussies tight.
this's vulgar world where are we all living.
if you are being sane in this not-so sage world
then, i'm sure, you missing the ecstasy of thanksgiving.
feed women right. and get yourself alright.
treat 'em fuckin' wrong. and fuck your brain outta the crap of fuckin' life.