The joyride was her badge she carried it like rage
on a ruffled polka-dotted clown sleeve.
In the hollow of the wilderness, a hidden place of terror, Joy found a g-spot.
Gee spotted a stain on her sleeve. It became a badge
she wore throughout her life like rage.
Hollowed out and wanting, her life wasn't, so to speak, a joy ride.
Hollow was the rage that drove Joy to ride
her police woman's bike; there was no courage in her badge.
A mime's sleeve was found in a dumpster soaked with Gee's Spot.
Cut my sleeve, saw into it like your g-spot, it's not hollow.
Jam it in, twist it around, I want your joy ride
in me like a purple clown's rage rewriting hope into my badge.
Francis raged into Joy, riding her g-spot
just as Joy demanded till Francis was as hollow
as the badge she wore on a bedraggled clown sleeve.
The badge Joy wore was hollow like plastic beads sewn on a sleeve.
There was no happiness to be found on Gee's spot.
When Francis' joy ride concluded all that remained was a cave of rage.
Francis Mount, on 9/11/11, submitted these six words: Joyride, Badge, Rage, Sleeve, Hollow, and g-spot using the 6 Word form above. You too can submit six words to me and I will craft them into something disastrously dangerous.