Red #40

I’d rather have your blood
spilt on my rug than Red #40.
I won’t settle for fake.
And the less organic, the more it stains.

I want brains, not something staged.
A bleeding heart drained to empty
Is more nifty
than fast food fairy tale gooey syrup
in thumping styrofoam facades.

If I’ve a stain to clean, so help me god,
I want it whole, unprocessed, raw.

I’m not looking to make a mess, but I guess, in the event
it wrecks, splits, breaks and leaks
It will not have been all for a boob
made of plastic, silicone or saline.

No Pinocchio aspartame lying games
Cialis snoot fabricating into flames

A real boy, all flesh and truth,
Upright and stringless is good to choose
So if I’m born to lose
Make him the genuine article
Guaranteed to be
Hand born atoms, cornfed particles

It’s hard to count on a love that will last
But easier to move on
When armed with enzymes,
scrub brush and solutions that work fast.