Category Archives: Poetry

Wentworth Miller is like…

The copy machine outside my office door. His words sound like music when I don’t want to kick him for repeating himself.

A paperclip. He keeps me together when I want to fall apart.

A staple remover. We cum together to pull one out.

An ink stamp. He’s left his mark on me and he’s always getting all over my hands.

A document holder. He makes sure everything stays upright and I can see.

Scotch Tape. He sticks where I want him to and sometimes where I don’t…(ouch Went! WRONG HOLE)

A stapler. He injects me to keep me in place.

A mouse pad. He lays there and let’s me rub on him.

Is it 5:00 yet?

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For Wentworth Miller: My one true love

UPDATE: Here’s the audio. Never drink coolers on an empty stomach people…Oh and that sound you hear after Went’s name is my cat using my bed as a trampoline.

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Bored Haiku

[Bongo playing in the background and the air is thick with smoke as WFW walks out]

Wentworth is filming
I’ve got no material
All has gone quiet

[tasteful fade to black]

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