Belly Full of Poison. Fuel poised to pour in. Salt in the wound will get you cursing. Sure thing. Pissing vinegar. Bloody bile. In the corners of their smile. The wild child within I.e evil twin. Toweling off the vile consonants and vowels it chokes up all the time. Spewing forth from their lips after barely crossing the mind. Forgoing looking both ways without mortality to worry about treating them unkind. Say what you will about intelligent design.
Nobody’s listening. With ears trained to show none no mind. While trying to figure out the last scathing remark our belly aching made. Anyone speak deeply concerning growl? Do The Cramps always foretell a smell so foul. If so I’m throwing in the towel. And showering off after evacuating my bowels. Of the strychnine that took its time doing
a number on my......