My nipples squirt out yellow orange juice
It's a crazy phenomenon
Only noticeable in small, sexually active peacocks
I would know
For I am one myself
I swallow the tears of innocent children
And then I excrete that sweet pugnant gas
But no one will know as I inwardly struggle
With castanets and marracas and yesterday's lunch
I hope they do know, that I will survive
Just so long as that liquid cheez-it mixture doesn't lactate from my other nipple and my bowels vomit up my third wife and I have to go to the bathroom for six hundred and seventy eight hours
Nonstop
It's a truly great stuggle
But I will remain
A Walrus
