I feel poetic when I say that the group of young
teenage girls at the mall

rattled my psyche
like wailing sirens

and that their freshly developed breasts
could make for quite tempting cider

should Satan decide
to pick and press them.

I feel honest when I say that the group of young
teenage girls at the mall

rattled my psyche
like the other group of teenage girls I once
saw scissoring in a porno,

and that their freshly developed breasts
made mе wrestle my inner lunatic to
thе ground,

bind his hands behind his back
and draw him a crude sketch of the young
girls scissoring to keep him from screaming.