Once, I gave up my guilt
It was really such a mealy-mouthed quilt
"They say he like to fucks with your elbowing potentiality..."
Well, fuck him and the bipolar goose he rode in on then. Acting like my fucking brother and mother at once.
This poem had a morning.
I had you. Twas nice.
"Erato, poetry pulse
There's nothing to that e.r.
A doctor will be a cunt and just tell you
There's nothing not kidding in this universe, Alas
Anne Sexton breath mints would be nice
When I write a poem about you
mostly I worry about where to put the word the
Then I kill a lot of prepositions
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