Critics & Lovers

nothing i say can mean anything to you

my third eye does not blink
or feel the cackling spit from your
illiterati lips

only the ego fears the slice of your tongue
licking the salt smeared in self-inflicted wounds
why do you sneer through this crack in

a window i left open,
wanting fresh air to blow away the stench
of yesterday’s shitty thoughts?

you blind me with regurgitated nuance;
a vain vulture’s vomit
of projectile pretentiousness

lecherous old parasite,
leering like a pedantphile,
gripping the maypole on a children’s playground

are you so dead that you have to pick at
the scab of my art to feel anything?
don’t poke your shallow twat into
my therapy

grab a fucking couch
and carve between the scars on your own
hacked wrists

if i say tuh-may-toh, it’s a damn tomato
not tuh-mahhh-toh

fat beefsteak drippings
squeezed into a claw-foot tub of contempt
drowning in a rye soggy mess

i couldn’t care less
what academics have for lunch
i’m eating my heart out
and prefer to dine alone

your greasy fork signs my report card
as you suck the flesh off the end of my quill

even the womb is dark
even in birth, there is pain
bloody silverware poking at my brain

i’m one bite of dessert from exiting
this dine-n-dash universe, yet
you want to critique a scream

The Kat