By Stanley Collymore
So you want me to marry you
because you assume that
our joint genes will very
undoubtedly, in your so puerile fantasy,
produce excellent and unquestionably
literally desirably unblemished babies
rather distinctly so physically and too
psychologically both for them and us
also, as their fortunate lucky parents.
Personally I just really can’t think off
hand of anything more astoundingly
mindless as what you’re undeniably
distinctly rather seriously proposing
I should quite soberly go along with.
What do you really think I am;
a Stepford wife broodmare,
quite automatic breeding
machine with no valued input from
me, as to how my own body ought
actually to, or even distinctively so
more importantly, surely shouldn’t
be that involuntarily, delegated for
such a ridiculous proposition? By
all means chump be a noticeable
replica of William Windsor if truly
you idiotically want to and that is
what actually, turns you on; but I
solemnly promise you that you’ll
essentially, have to do it without
me I’m afraid; as I’m not or will I
ever deliberately, or intelligently
choose to be your sick affected
version, of one Kate Middleton!
(C) Stanley V. Collymore
9 May 2023.