This is not a poem. Bam! This is an assault to your senses, a rape of your status quo. This is not a poem, not some trendy leopard print, not a polka dot parade. No. You do not smell hot dogs, cotton candy or frankincense. The myrrh has left the building. This is not a poem. It’s an anthem, a declaration of noncompliance, a liberation proclamation. Snap! Snap! This is not a poem. It’s a love song a torch song a song of myself and not you, you’re not worth it. No tears, got it? Don’t act like a girl. Blow your nose, wipe your eyes. Don’t make yourself look stupid! This is not a poem. It’s salt poured on the wound. Can it feel? Only if I let it burn too deeply. This is not a poem. No! It isn’t good enough. No. I’ve read poems & it’s not the same. Snap! Snap! This is not a poem. It’s a hip hop of my own creation, a celebration of my brains, my breasts, my underground caverns. This is not a poem. It’s a rite of passage, a starry night, a reluctant homage to your name, spelled out in lonely Broadway lights. My life goes dark without you, honey. Clap! Clap! This is not a poem. You with your lust, with your X-ray eyes. Listen up now. Be careful how you love me, grateful for second chances. Don’t push too hard. I might surprise you, you’ll see I’m tougher than I look; I eat Bukowski for breakfast.
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