Ode to T.—P.—
I sit wishing you were here with me
O! for that I would give anything!
You my dear are White and Clean, filled with
Grace, compared to my filthy desire and lust for you
Without you in my life who would explore the void?
None other could be so bold, so strong, so daring
None other could work as well as you without
Destroying under the stress, coming to a horrible end.
Often I have found myself in praise
Of your ridges, like great snow-capped peaks
And low frost-covered pains
That dot your ivory surface
As a cushiony pillow of clouds is soft
So are you
And the patterns that weave about you
Designed by your maker
Just for me.
Praise be to your creator, He had great vision!
From necessity He created you
And gave you to me
And I need you
And I miss you,
My toilet paper dear.
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