"Yeah right," he said.
"I can."
He began coughing then said quickly, "spit", as he walked away.
By the time he came back to my desk, it was written.
He challenged me and I wrote the following poem in, I believe, ten minutes. Allow me to introduce you to: Is it Spit?
Continue licking the spots that are familiar to your tongue,
Experience the swirl of melodies that lie within your favorite song,
Holding on to every drip of spit
To ensure all of it land on the designated pits
Shhhhh...The secrets of are no lie, they are legit
Digging deep down into the pond of wetness guarantee moistness,
Unlocking the essence of a soul being made whole
Striving with finesse
To caress the inner most desire to spit and lick
Then spit and lick
Swallowing is the only option to make sure that your tongue finds its direction
Again and again to the spots from where it begins,
Again and again
Over and over, is it a myth?
No. shhhhh. It is spit.
Experience the swirl of melodies that lie within your favorite song,
Holding on to every drip of spit
To ensure all of it land on the designated pits
Shhhhh...The secrets of are no lie, they are legit
Digging deep down into the pond of wetness guarantee moistness,
Unlocking the essence of a soul being made whole
Striving with finesse
To caress the inner most desire to spit and lick
Then spit and lick
Swallowing is the only option to make sure that your tongue finds its direction
Again and again to the spots from where it begins,
Again and again
Over and over, is it a myth?
No. shhhhh. It is spit.
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