infected

I do not read Cosmo

just a glance at the shit filled cover

will give you an eye infection

your lids will swell up from devil pus

the medicine ointment smells worse

you pray you don’t barf when you drip it

onto siren red eyeballs



if I don’t pass out from this funk

I will surely put on my birth control

glasses and wrap myself up in

pages and pages of poetry

don’t care who wrote it

just that it causes cosmic sparks

to explode and soar

inside my tiny heart



maybe the sound of

one girl reading

will cure disease

famine fatigue

and halitosis



no, maybe not

I am a whore

I have bad hair

after a trip to Taco Bell

I want an orgasm

and I want you to leave

so I can sleep it off

*September 2010