Key, oh key,
why are you so mean to me?
all I do is love you
and pet you
and lick you
and love you.
You're so ungrateful!
you never tell me I'm not dull!
you spit on me
and kick me
and beat me
and scream in my face.
But I love you!
I love you so much.
you unlock doors for me,
and add weight to my keychain
so that way it doesn't fall out of my pocket
when I do backflips
over whales
in the sand
.
Keys, oh keys,
you are shaped like fig trees.
with stickers of red,
all over your head
and grass at your trunk in the summer.
but there's no grass
just broken glass
from the vagrants who pee on you and drink themselves into blissful intoxication under your shady branches, and lacking the respect for you and your natural service, leave the bottles of whiskey and rum at your base to be smashed by ornery little children who pass by and play ball in the meadow
anyway
as I say
in this poetic kind of way
I mentioned
some stickers
passion-colored on your cranium
lets ponder that dent
for a Ashtan moment
(that rhyme was kind of stupid)
They're stained with blood,
those stickers, no dud.
(tore the flesh from my brother cupid)
now how was that?
you hogs of fat
(that rhyme scheme was kind of loop-ed)


yo.
I feel like a rapper, but not really...at all.


Kona

The only value is entertainment value.

Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Chronos, in the year 270 AF.