Why does everything need a label?

I never felt the need to wear designer anything.

I mean apple bottoms did make my ass feel bigger

But perhaps that was just due to all the extra eyes on it.

He labels me fascinatingly irritable.

I label him a talented asshole.

She labels me curiously confused.

I label her fucking amazing.

I don’t want to be in a strait jacket.

I don’t want to give up on marrying Lenny Kravitz either.

Label me confused.

Because I love well defined bit of heaven that is his pelvis

and the way her butt fills those jeans just enough to be noticeable by me.

Label me curious because of the things I want to do with her.

The only thing I find curious is the creative ways I come up with to make it happen.

I label me openly loving.

Don’t want to focus only on finding Mr. Right

When Ms. Marvelous could be standing right in front of me.

Have sex on the first date or encounter and they label you a hoe

I say we could all die tomorrow

So why not let you fuck my inhibitions away

And die that much freer than I was before.

Label me bitch

Cause I am light skinned with pretty hair

And neither time nor patience for your bull shit.

Label her conceited
Because she has a firm grasp of the English language.
They label you a poet when you get up at an open mic

When all you did was write a poem.

Guys spit alliteration among alluring angels attempting to acquire ass

Label her ratchet
Because she likes to shake her ass when the beat drops.
Label him a player
Because he is enjoying life while searching for that special one.

Label her a groupie if she shows the slightest interest in both your talent & your body

They are out there

Don’t get me wrong

But maybe you actually are that enticing

Maybe you deserve your own groupie,

President of your fan club

Shouldn’t a partner be just that?

No one can live life on a pedestal

Or in a box

Or behind a label

If you must

Label me Turtleberry

Curiously confused in my clarity

Now back inside my shell.

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