maguluis

I do not like you poets breathing into my sorry head like the air hasn't been wasted a half-a-million times folding up my lungs to place them neatly into a wastebasket how can you make me stop hurting & then just leave me a limp lettuce leaf on the backside of some dirty napkin verse I am not the jealous type but I'm going to call up Melpomene & ask her where she's been send her drunk texts all night because I'm too tired of filling up my skull with cicada skins instead of led while you make it all too easy to sleep through a heartattack or two my pygmalion, my god, my thing of legends tell me when you were being taught the siren's son