I.C.O.N. I find virgin notebooks everywhere I look I spread them like legs And insert stiff pulsating thoughts from my head Now, it may take hours for these virgins to be deflowered With the words I create But sometimes the words I pick don't fit So I have to lick…to lubricate The creative juices accumulate at the corners of my mouth Just itching to be dripped out. The paper reaches the point of saturation From the ink…which comes from pen-ertration Insertion My dictation comes..what's next? Creation When the ink squirts past the cervix Lyrical orgasms one after another Again and again cuz I ain't no two minute brother I repeatedly rip rhymes written on panty lines Its bewildering, the feeling that comes over me When I see the voluptuousness of the O's and the angular beauty of the V's The lines of each blank page wraps around the tip of my bic…pen And sucks out each drop of ink within Wait…I feel the vibration of my pen And(AH-AHHH-AHHH) I came again The force hits capital I and bends it into an S But, I am relieved of all my stress In time, it'll be fine I'll just flip the page and hit it from behind Intermission I went to the kitchen to make a sandwich But I started missing the kissing So I came back so I could suck those sentences and lick those prepositions Now, I'm a Sagittarius, and I heard it said That we would rather have sex twice really fast Than spend all day in bed But writing is exciting and naked pages are inviting Enticing my mind to stay And have a little word play With the sexual sensation served by my words from front to back The pages, once virgins, now become nymphomaniacs The transformation transforms right before my eyes And that's why I had so much fun writing Black Thighs I was surprised when some small-minded poets hated on me Its not a problem, they just have pen-is envy Trying to do what I do with their dumb buts And wound up with paper cuts When it comes to this, there's none greater I.C.O.N. Inter Course On Notebookpaper.