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?


Filed under Poetry

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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Filed under Poetry

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]


Filed under Poetry

Ode to Wentworth Miller in Brit Speak

I’d really love to see you wank
and present my bum for you to spank
I’d lick your lips and and kiss your flank
You’d think all your other lovers stank

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Filed under Poetry

Ode to Wentworth Miller

Oh Wentworth, you are such a gent
Polite and smart and talented
I’d love you if you didn’t have a cent
You’re why I created Wet For Went

Oh Wentworth, you’re so fine
I hope one day to make you mine
Just a roll in the hay would be sublime
We’d have a really rockin’ time

Oh Wentworth, you’re so tall
It must be hard to shop at the mall
I know that we would have a ball
If only my number you would call

Oh Wentworth, you’re so sweet
You have some really big ol’ feet
Another reason we should meet
well that and what you put in your seat

Oh Wentworth, you have such pretty eyes
Sometimes they’re as blue as the skies
and others dark, they hypnotize
There are no panties you leave dry

Oh Wentworth, come to Baltimore
I’ll be your dirty little whore
I promise I am not a bore
I am what you’ve been waiting for


Filed under Pic Spam, Poetry