I have a pretty sister
Well more like
She's a part of my brain
A soft snail who lost her shell
And hides here
Among those of us in pain
She writes poetry
About god and goodness
And about sudden sobriety
I try to be nice
But I can't be this close
To personal piety
When she sleeps
I pull out my prick and stick it
In a toaster by her bed
And hope she dreams
Of toasted sausage parties
Dancing in her
Pretty little head