slouching,
staggered by the slightness of my sleep and
your stark fuckery.
so much so
I can’t even scrap together a shrewd sentence to
slay you in true poetic structure or
slander you sub-rosa in idioms
nor serve you with that same fucking nerve
you been struttin’ around with lately.
this is just a sad silhouette of a slant
you should take a stab at my notebook
it’s storming.
buzzin' 