I’m a little fuck mango.
If it please the court,
I have this generous handful
of indeterminate pills.
That’s not a thought that’s soot.
Like wage I war
with endless cost-of-living.
Surmise me or don’t. Prophecy already.
Go ahead and get shifted in the solar plexus,
but leave the driving to grandma.
You can’t skydive.
I miss the human truth of your smile,
and miles upon miles
wiggle their cans
out of the darkness we regurgitate.
Lay Off Why Don’t Ya