Goddess of Grunge












































Oh goddess of grunge
My lips take the plunge
Onto your filthy boot
Your grubby white sock
To which I’m in hock
Reminds me I am but a brute.

For you are the female
Whose wishes must prevail
And I am your public footserver
My lips should feel pride
To taste where you stride
So I lick at your boot with true fervour

Oh pray goddess local
I must become vocal
And verbally praise your boot leather
For it tastes most divine
Like the sweetest of wine
On this bitterest day of foul weather

And so I eat dirt
As my worship I blurt
Admiring your sock as I do so
And I learn to respect
All the grime I inspect
On the leathery treads of your shoesole

Oh goddess of hoodie
Oh pray don’t be moody
And permit me to nuzzle your sock
For I’m yearning to show
What you already know
My devotion to you round the clock.

Pray visit again
And cause me great pain
By kicking me hard in the face
For you are my better
And I am your debtor
I slavishly kiss your bootlace.


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