when you wore your chester
the molester stache
we joked at your creepiness

why couldn’t you just leave it at
a joke

we all make mistakes
why did your’s have to be at their
expense

but when you scoff
and glory in ignorance,
do you not realize
how stupid you are?

doesn’t the earth swing back
and forth like a pendulum?
…well,
doesn’t it?
doesn’t it just say one
thing and another thing
and another?
and you tell it to shut up,
one hand on her thigh
thinking
am i spilling my fucking
guts?
if i sit on this couch long
enough will god damn me
for leaving the indention
of my ass alone
for
however
long or,
whatever?

i can make poop poetic
if given the time
and the will to rhyme it