Surprise For Your Eyes

Can you feel all the drool Spooling down upon your words, And the fingerprints; dirty fingernails Smudging your sentences, Rubbing the sense from your paragraphs? I lounge and elbow my way Through your writings; I burrow into the underclothes Of your images, and your strutting ideas I wear On my backside, like a shirt turned upside down That only fits halfway, and reveals most the things meant to be hidden. While your metaphors hang down, drying Between my legs, like a forgotten afterbirth I funnel loud echos, from your peculiar sentiments, Through a tumescent portal, you have never laid eyes on- Because you think I must be made all of sugared violets?