Fat Goth Poetry

Pain, Sadness, and Cheetos

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Nov
18

BigBird Slash

I caressed the fetid feathers covering the supple, rotting flesh of her bosom.

She chittered through her beak softly and slid her obsidian claws into my pants. Moaning with desire, I pressed my milky white skin against her, dislodging the decaying remains of her last meal.

“Oh my angel!” she crooned, her dry tongue flittering out between the yellow cracked beak.

“Rub your skin all over my body!” she croaked.

Soon our passions entwined as I parted her dorsal feathers and found the swamp of her desire.

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Commnets

  1. When you kill a Muppet it should stay dead. This is an abomination.

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