The Quest For Breasts.

What is the life of a man, but a long and drawn out quest for breasts. First we feed from them, then we up grow up and the rest of the quest begins....

A quest for breasts, or

A mission for mammaries.

What is a man's life,

If not one of these.

We need them for feeding,

And want them for kneading.

Bras are liars and they,

Can be quite deceiving.

Massive jugs in a cotton hug,

Burst free and then drag the rug.

The perky ones, are like little buns,

They stand and salute, like 21 guns.

I have a set of perfect tits,

When I see them, I lose my whits.

My wife she likes to bind, and hide them,

I would much rather free, and find them.

This game of tits,

This quests for breasts,

Will live on,

With a quick glimpse,

at your beautiful chest.

All Jokes Aside.

Humor may be, a defense for me,

A way to cope with life.

Three thing on this planet I see,

That give a real purpose, to little old me.

The first one is the ability to Rant,

The second is a miraculous plant,

The third is with my wife,

And our so called American life.

There's no place I would rather be.

Than locked inside,

With only my bride,

And fat ass cannabis Doobie.

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Poetry can be so many things, for many different people. It can trigger nostalgia, or induce rage. For me it is simply a cathartic release. A way to destress, and clear my head. That being said, I hope you enjoyed these vibrant verses, and stunning stanzas.

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Thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed these poems, please feel free to SHARE, and LIKE 💚 the post. There is also the option of leaving your 2¢ in the Tip Bucket. It helps also.

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Links, and Image Sources.

https://motherless.com/949F7B2

https://user.8xxx.net/i/1035262-porn-image-black-amp-white-pics-of-sexy-smoking-women-02/gallery101894869/