Manage my death
so that i can formally
displease you
appease not a thing
that should ease you
synchronize my love
for your pain engrained
on blood-stained windscreen
i am so glad that i am not sad
that your body I’ve shamed
it’s just that i inundate
myself with images of shit
bag fuck-wits walking this
zombie dead dirt fuck ground
earth that dies dies dies
stinks rots bleeds fecal matter
a cold warm blooded spatter
why won’t you die you
fuck?
