X-Ray Specs
I showed Dad the back page
of my comic book.
I wanted a squirting flower
(you’re soaked, sucka),
live Sea Monkeys
(make ‘em sufferrr),
but most of all,
a pair of $3
(only)
X-Ray Specs!
See right through clothing, brosky.
Scientific optical principal totally works.
Dad copped the load but the only
thing I really needed was the specs.
For starters, there was like Deborah
Black, Heather Horsey and,
(oh, Jesus),
Natalie “the rack” Cockburn.
Would have to be careful
around Ms. White in class.
Kept asking Dad, and fucking
praying to God.
The specs did not come. Fuck
God & fuck the Sea Monkeys
into the fucking ground.
Dad, where are they?
Soon. Promise.
Dad, where are they?
No fucking idea!
One morn when I was choking
the chicken in the shower,
the specs finally came.
Few weeks before,
I found me a switchblade and I
did murda the box with that lil’ mutha.
Can’t say if I wore them all day.
Can’t say that night I prob saw like
Dad’s dick by glow of my Batman nite-lite.
Horror Sleaze Trash 