It would be in your best interest,


Mr. Fingernails Gnawed to the Quick
Got Crows Feet Plaster of Paris Couldn't Cover,
Pseudo-Intellectual,
Smiles like Neil Young,
Beatnik Rebel,
Rough-Ass Poet


to keep your notebook

and pen

in that smoky corner.




My thighs have been begging for some
disco blue glitter fuck me ink


to
fox-trot



all the way up
their insides.