Butt-chugging smoke-licking lovebite-
begging ex-lover—
Not taking no no’s, but you take me
for some dum-dum magic skull cookie?
X-tra spicy like you treat me—
Say I should’ve let you beat me—
Two pounds of mud on my face
for you—doctor pimple popper
wouldn’t have a clue—so get
down on your knees and lift your
squick ass up, eighty-two
times two
Painting my skin cross
the asphalt (your fault)—
painting my juice cross
the face of your pit boss—
Spit and swear no more romances
with oil-gloved big-boned fist-letches,
cause never was any last one of them
better—
Fat-cell ice tea, but
they want a flambé—yay,
you did it but you’re burned
inside—meanwhile your outsides’ve
never ever been
wetter
Like my daddy said
when I failed second grade: “Well,
it’s not exactly like we ever
thought she’d be
a go-getter.”