The walk

One thing I've learned in this crazy little thing called life: If it looks like a duck and talks like a duck. It must be a duck. A crazy dildo-duck. All flopping around perhaps of purple latex. "Quack Quack." what a cute abomination. He'll bite you, and don't try to use him.  That mean little bastard will rip through your intestines like an ice auger devours the frozen winter ice.

Some of you readers may be saying, "Why?" "What does this mean?" Obviously you're not a golfer.
So i'll continue.

It was a morning of discontent, or perhaps an evening of incontinence. My parnter in crime was a lanky gentle giant, like a Smokey the Bear and Tree-beard  cross breed child. He was my caretaker. Keep my leash taught. I tend to wander inside of women. A walk through a rape cauldron filled with sex stew as it simmer ready for serving. the masses awaiting for their belly-climax. Queueing up by the thousands, the sight was impressive. Impressively sexual.  Our turn had come, a meal fit for a Me,  although I wasn't entirely sure on the contents, for I had ceased to have functioning taste buds as a result of my ever-deteriorating condition and behavior. To the sassy young  attractive  ghoulish goblin handing out tickets to a polar bear orgy, the offer still stands. Many moons passed  and the work bells chimed. "Now is our chance, we must escape." With guards at every door Me and Smokeytree stood no chance. The words of Duchovney rang in my head, "Use your piss." Genius, piss: The only thing more potent than ghoulish menstruation. unleashing a hurricane of yellow light from my loins, mixing with the putrid taste of curdling vagina mucus, the smell was horrendous, horrendously poetic, justice has been served, all you can eat. These minions are free, I ask for no reward, for your viginities  are useless to me. The walk continues.

Fruit of my loins...

Tim Lee's Wednesday

Here I am, In the bladder of the beast waiting with baited breath to be expunged into the piss trough that is UWM. I am a stranger with candy in a strange land. A man I have never seen before is my tour guide on this hellish journey - key words like "sheath, plasticity, and synapse" Rock climbing Erection Amputee Shedding limbs. Axons expelling buckets of semen. 3 or 4 kids - 1 or 2 bedrooms. Somebody's fucking. Unwanted side effects? You dirty bald circus jester. Vacating your bowels, through your mouth. Pumping your blog? What kind of teach raper are you? Answer: A bad one. A mind leper humping an injured, synchronized swimmer into sex-submission.

Girl enters. I can only wonder what kind of underpants she is wearing under her - DOPAMINE -  sweatpants proclaiming where she loves gang bangs...UWM. Release of dopamine? More like the release of a sexual TIger Panther sent to maul your vagina-face. Treat it like raw hamburger.

Second page brain scanner? Kinky sexual innuendo referring to my scrotum painting your naked body in delicious shades of white, off-white, cream, yellow, and brown. Man proclaims "INJECTION" Inject me while I inject you. Left turning Rat circles googling optogenetics up my lighchanneling sphincter. Inbalanced Dopa-anus spiraling out of control like a fiery Arby's curly fry cork screwing a crack fiend under a bridge whilst he devours an Elk penis sausage vendor's excrement in a freshly toasted baguette smothered in cum-mayonnaise. No Dopamine!? Never fear I'll butt fuck your face till it swells into a vague ass-shaped mass then reverse blowjob your urethra till your penis inside-out blooms like an Outback™ onion.

Drugs can lead to coitus...with the opposite same sex. resembling a down syndrome Gary Busey high on rape-drugs smooth muscling his way into your empty vessels.

Tendon attacking boners. Individual fibrous beings spew protein bundle filaments. Contraction caused by sliding friction. Cure: Astroglide. Fucking a dry vagine is this guy's forte. Much like Masturbating with a belt sander while Helen Keller pours lemon juice on your open wounds. Bottling your screams is like a sick and twisted Mike + Sully. This realistic truth that is Monsters Inc. Find solace that your sick sadomasochist fetish will power future generations of turd spawn to blossom into finely tuned walking Flesh Lights for the masses (I prefer asian anus).

Breast Muscles. Exercise them into my mouth. Turkey, chicken, who the fuck cares. Both have fuckable assholes. May their beaks treat my unit like an A-pillar being sliced by the jaws of life. To save my wretched soul from the burning car wreck that is the reality of this penisman's mindfuck. Musclefucking me like a transient rapist. "Herky Jerky" he proclaims, as I tighten the noose. Together we quiver as we climax in unison. Date rape cocktails. You sly minx. I'll only ingest it with my Ass.

In the way of a true warrior poet.
Class dismissed.

Obelisk

A poem for you queer nerds who like poems.

Obelisk By: Tim Lee


Obelisk
Created long ago
By powers unknown
Mysterious

Obelisk
Testament of time
Crafted by the gods
Triumphant

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Through neglect
You persevere
Stable

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Caring hands

Maintain your strength

Inspiring

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Casting shadow
Ruling the surrounds
Majestic

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No equal
No doubt
Glorious

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You are strong
You are mighty
You are a metaphor of my penis

My Muses.

This is a "Thank You,"

     To all those who have carried  my proverbial drunken torso from the metaphorical keggar of life.

I shall try to be as specific as possible. name names Etc. if I forget your existance  consider that a "Fuck You" instead of a "Thank You" depending where you are from, It may have the same emotion attachment.

I'm getting away from the point:

Jane Lee, you wonderful lady, as sweet and as perfect of a mom you are, you have managed to perfect the spawn of all things that are rightfully-wrong in the world. encouraging me to be a free-spirit, it has allowed me to mature into a sedated rapist (metaphorically. fucking baptists.....) Thanks mom.

Danika. to the woman I love with every ounce of my heart, (granted my heart is sort of a bitter prune of miscreant) in percentage that 100 percent shit. and its all yours baby. bask in it I know do. Knowing that a woman as educated and wise as you has place in her life for suck a motley crew of idea's the walking contents of a port-o-let, yours for the taking. I love you so. P.S. I'm touching you inappropriately while you sleep next to me- Win

Kamilla, you witty bitch.  Thats all I got and I love you for it.

Jeff. my man crush. not in a gay way, well sort of. I am naked while I write this, take that how you wanna. You are my best-man-friend. kinda worthless words coming from this cesspool. but invest in me and that turdy cocktail soup that is my existance will fertilize a tree, a womans vagina tree hopefully. hugs and kisses.

to nick: my brother, fuck you. but at the same time thank you, for showing me the perfect step by step of how to ruin my own life...cheers! I'm sure I bought that drink anyways.

To logan, the whitest black man i know. thanks for being so colorful.

To hipsters, you cultivate my hate.

To Jesus,                     ha gotchya 

To the regulars. You know who you are.... unless you don't, then your probably high.

to Brian Zaremba, you were a bum for six years.

Josh you furry bastard. fill my pillows with yourself

to anyone i forgot. eat shit. the taste may be surprising, probably not but you'll never know till you try. live every day like its a gift. a big shit covered gift. and the gift itself is a turd, but a glorious specimen, the one you look at for a while. and think "i made that" yes yes you did. and its shitty

be loud and proud because the squeaky wheel gets the grease, and grease tastes like shit.

good night you all, and fuck you, i love you

The poke

To all you Facebookers out there:
        Why do you poke me? Is it some coy attempt to say, "Hey I want attention?" What if I poked you in person? You wouldn't like that, I would be liable to get maced. Trust me. What else is in a poke? It could be a metaphor, a blunt or sharp one, as in referring to the girth of your internet penis. My web-junk is pretty polite. Only sniffing around other like minded voids, that would be you, ladies... Because the vagina and especially the web-vagina wants to be poked, right? Filled like and ore barge and sent down river. I hate to say it but you're probably not my type anyways. On the unlikely event I would "Poke" you in real life or otherwise, it would be meant to say, "Hey, I'm Tim, I wanna finger you with my penis." But since I rarely hand out that compliment don't hold your breath for it, I'm not into Necrophilia. so next time you "Poke" someone (or something) give it a little thought, I do. look where that has gotten me? I'm flavorfully unsavory. Like a sun-rotted rib-eye. to some I'm a delicacy, the people who enjoy the finer things. To others I offend their "Delicate palettes." Well ok. I'm fine with that. I want to be enjoyed by people with awful taste, not squandered by the masses, and you people should be too. Stop it with the internet spam of the, "Poke." That shit is as weak as my diluted urine. You're better than that, and by better I mean: horrible. Horrible horrible people, the lot of you. you disgust me to the point of discharge. but since I like vomit porn, take that as a compliment. take it where you want it too, I'm a fan of glory holes myself, something to say about a hole cut in a wall, and I believe that statement is "Lets put our dicks in it!" In ways the poke is an internet glory hole, guilt free pleasure with no strings attached. Poke a random stranger, move on: Simple. So I leave you with this - The poke: The American dream incarnate. Reduced to putting your dick in a hole.

Fuck it

Dear reader,

          I'm sorry for when i offend you, oh yes if you become a regular reader of this shit, your eye's will burn from the amount of text piss i'm geysering into your face. some call me a, "forward thinker", I like to call myself a "backwards doer."  a relative simple soul, with simple dreams. at this point you may say "god, this guy is horrible with punctuation." i will simply state, I never punctuate on the first date."  but i digress lets get to brass tax, or is it tacks, fuck it Tim says it's gonna be tax, cause who the fuck wants to hear about tacks? not you, your here to get a word-gasm, and my mind's dick will give that to you. long and hard, perhaps tweek the brain nips a bit? not into that? thats ok. fucking literature prude. leave us smut-peddling hardcore swinging dicks of the web (not to be sexist  with the term "swinging dicks" i know women don't have dicks, and if they do, i just lost a bet.) leave us to our rantings about the random, the daily "what the fuck" if you will. i might have one or two of those for you, and if you show me yours i'll show you mine. i meant that in the worst way possible, and the possiblities are endless.  I may not be wholesome but atleast i'm honest. so i'll leave you with this: Fuck it.