Written with precision her poetry is far from prison - no yearning masses camped in homes suffering horribly executed poems forced to endure the badly grammered hammered with needless words buffering while under house arrest; slammered Incarcerated in unpoetic hells Jailed birds in private cells praying to be liberated on an aptly dated day The 5th of November! Remember! Remember! Remember her name
hell hath no fury like me the first eve from the book of life
here I come greys you think your smart you now have leprosy and the plague for milking me for more info I am pure with out problem mosaltave that you german roach you have my swasktika don't you god sees with eyes I am pure eve no problem you wish you created her moon butts I'm crushing your brains now die
Priorities - not had a shower in a few days, lost the energy to cook - no food in the house anyway, light hurts the head, laundries need doing, three baskets full and a pile by the bed, a bed that's not been changed in weeks. Sheets that have been washed reek of damp, sitting in the machine too long, lamp needs a replacement bulb - daily sobrieties needing drowning, feel like you're failing.
Almost a Sims character gone rogue, flailing, could build four...
Each year the pavement is buried, pillion passengers carry crushed flowers tucked inside black leather jackets, faded faces drinking beer, veiled under sprigs of gypsofilia. Diminished tributes fall flat on just another wasted road-rash.
Once vibrant petals lose their colour and that string tied photograph fades like the sepia memories they try to crayon in each year. Swapping stories like trading cards, old bikers stuck in slip-road ruts.
You wont find me leaning on that tree throwing posies at your feet ...
You can like all you want on social media Still doesn't make up for the rude crap you sent my way I listened to all your head trips with grace and patience When I asked for more joy to go with your sorry life You assaulted me with venom and hate You can never walk that shit back You're road kill now babe Rotting in the Cali sun and no sunset picture will rescue you now I don't need you anymore But you're still worth a thousand hate poems Whose laughing now bitch ?
I do not ache for you no more, Not like I used to anyhow. Your attraction is diminishing, More and more, Don't like you like I did before.
I don't share the same ideals as you, Or your enthusiasm for what it's worth. I don't like being told what to do, Or how I should be pleasing you!
You're far too proud girl, same as me, We cancel each other out that way. Impasses are easily reached with us - Like how many times do we kiss and make up, And who will be the first to break; How much more shit will I take? ...