a poem about drunk basement tattoos

do it

do it

I can’t do it

don’t spill the ink

she’s already spilt it all over her curtain

do it 

no, I can’t

no, you can

I actually can’t

do it

what do you want me to do?

do a circle, or something

here’s a pen

that’s horrible!

no it’s good it’s really good

i just, stick it in your skin?

yes, don’t be gentle

just, I stab you with it?

yes do it

like that?

yes! perfect! keep going!

again?

yes! do it!

okay no way I am not in the state for this

well… it is a nice looking dot I suppose

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