Dear John

I rewrote the subject line 16 times
I was so nervous I chain-smoked
like sucking on a redneck’s tailpipe
But I think I got it right
Eventually, the nights got quiet
No telltale heart
beating on my mind
No maddening thump when I look behind
And though love can be a mine, feeled,
the dirt below the pine needles
held more life than you

So how does one begin
to craft words to throw upon stone;
to scatter letters into Oblivion;
to clearly type division
so you would know
I’m not getting in the grave with you
And the bed’s been bathed of you
and actually, there’s nothing left worth saying to you

Sincerely,
Nevermind

Done

You’re uncouth and it’s unbearable
In fact I find it terrible
You can’t have what you don’t get
I’m miss understood
and you’re miss interpret
Bitch, it hurts when you talk like those ugly men
And I don’t wanna relive that again
Make a story where I’m crazy
To tell all your friends
And forget the parts where I got screwed by you
Each tightening twist that ensued
How you said I was rude and your folds
Left me gasping for air I was due
For my honesty, I got speculation
And for effort, I got no reciprocation
For your vile remarks, and my retort in barks
When I should have responded with automation?
Fuck that! I held even more back
And now I’m holding it all
You have no access
To the lessons I gathered
from this mess of effort
I have too many storms to weather
To try to be ever-present
For someone who just doesn’t get it
To care is to treasure the memories
Self-reflection is not your enemy
Having the last word is not important to me

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.