I'm bloated and swaying and losing my footing.
I'm cranky and gassy and crampy and shoulding
all over myself.
damn
I shouldn't have done that.
I shouldn't have put that
inside of the hole
that I talk with and kiss with
and sing pretty songs with
and take prepositions and shove at the end with.
Shouldn't you love me?
Shouldn't you care?
Shouldn't you help me and hold back my hair
as I vomit this milky brown mess in the sink
with eyes so bugged out that I can't even blink?
And don't try to lie, cuz I know what you think
that vomit and sink should be rhyming with stink
but it doesn't, you shithead!
This poem's not yours.
And now look
you made me
go poop in my drawers.
I knew this was coming.
You're trying to kill me!
And ruin my plumbing.
You're trying to off me
and ruin my breath
but guess what? I cannot be dairied to death.
You better get out of here.
Never come back!
(Unless it's to bring me a savory snack.)
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