Unnamed...

Unnamed...But I’d call it Waiting for Frenchie (with due respects to Ms. Brownie and all ye lovely perverts out there!)

Years-a-twenty but something’s stunted…
And you still stare, you mute parrot!
Thy glassy twins broken, and many a blade blunted…
But “Where art thou, you ugly maggot?!”

Years have passed since the funny mouche groom…
And months since they booed the hell-boy look …
Oh how I long for thee…shalt thou come to my tomb…?
How I long…you’re late, you crook!

Ah dear line, elusive and thin,
Ripping the twins of a French and goat…
And bridging the blackness of the lip and chin…
Ah! The perfect beard, I long to sport!