deepundergroundpoetry.com

A Tribute to 'Purple-Rain Poisoning.'

Let me sit back for this one
and inhale my cigarette,
it's going to be pretty watching you crumble
like cheap biscuit in cheap tea.
Custard creams, I used to like those,
now I like 'Sports', why don't you make a name out of that,
you cheap imitation of love.

It was all very comfy for you when you were bought
and paid for. You're a prostitute for greed. No more.
Little obsessive, aren't we?
While I am the Moon you are no Wolverine,
you don't even look like him,
what started that? Delusional.

Kudos darlin', oh, and by the way, I did warn you -
I fake all my orgasms. Over and out.
Now fuck off, you non-wanker, you dirty smoker, you cheap imitation of love.

Oh, and while we're at it I hope you choked, you know -
on those tablets, I hope it hurt not seeing me there. I hope you felt sick, I hope you felt frightened. Pest. Everyday with you
was like becoming a sixty year old woman with an adolescent boy still wanting to be tit-fed.