So tired of your pretty poetry, your “intellectual” poetry
poetry that needs a dictionary
poetry that replaces emotion with a thesaurus
poetry that is devoid of fucks, shits, whores and pussy.
So tired of your pretty poetry, your fluffy clouds and pillow poetry
poetry that takes long walks on a beach and marvels at the sun escaping into water
poetry that hasn’t hacked up smelly clumps of the night before into the bottom of a yellow-stained toilet.
So tired of your pretty poetry, your “I’m not rhyming, so please publish me” poetry
poetry that begs to fill a nonexistent void on some bull shit literary e-zine,
poetry that has never been fucked in the ass,
poetry that hasn’t smelled the dirty finger from the stank crotch of real life.
So tired of your pretty poetry.
