Do Not Forget Your Items, They Cram My Style

leave alone fury, female my lover, I beg you,
really, why hurry and rush to flush your alcholic face
to stoke the camp flame so high

to a dangerous state to where
our faces puke and wont need anything
to eat, except…except that frozen black night blanket lake, I dont care
why we sync our moods, your key is always minor and a designer of your own low judgement

the major key the drummer and I glide in groove 

and levels of the tide dance waves big
tonight of a fight you are going
to pick with me, yet your excuse
of alcohol abuse is of no use to voice

to me anymore, and I should have left
before when I saw it coming…..

now my rights I reserve

your shit

is on the curb 
the dirt and anger on your feet
on my carpet is the last time

I go to a party and act like a mime

lover, its over.

its over, and I dont end things

you know i’m ridden with love stings

all over my body plus

and i have the heart pumping puss

to my brain, this time so acidic

my poetic is stale, sheet music blank

tear drops dont make musical notes

but stupid little wimpering fishing boats

trying to catch a sea monster

in the toilet while you yack up

all of the beligerence I fear happening

and it is not going to be like that anymore

i should have stuck up for how i deserved

to be treated because I wont even repeat

the heat you shot balls of at me. below the belt

three years 5 nights a week this I experienced and felt

and I came out being the bad guy how again?

i never heard one sorry from you, only how I been

a huge piece of shit and pussy.

yours smells terrible.

and i cant believe you somehow became eligible

to be a poem

piece of shit poem

ten years later at home

wasting a space to make beauty live

from now on i forbid pen and pad


just a lowering self esteem fad

heard the joo joo was bad

to write about that, now

i’m hungry

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