09-12-2021, 10:21 PM
When the annals of my heart are leafed through, finally, by the AI, it will be met with a fierce security system: the voice of Gilbert Gottfried screaming out the lyrics to this poem, set to the visual of 1970's Gene Simmons swirling his tongue in and around a pregnant cow's bloated, warm and hairy udder, one teat after another, very slowly, with both wickedness and great care.