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You know,
It doesn't really matter,
All the one-liners you leave on my work
Like some sad-ass graffittiste.
I'm still just some chick
(Watch for the ones
You don't normally see.
They're the ones who'll stick a fork in your eye)
Who writes bad poetry and comments on yours.
(Although your retard friend
Would say- has uh said- different)
Though to your credit,
When my work gets really weird and tangetial
You pay attention then.
'Cept ALL my work is really tangential, since boy do I write about
Screwed-up things.
If something was dead on the road
I'd probably write a poem about it.
If you think of that
(And the fact that I see "World Ovens" on the side of a donut box
And can only think of Nazis)
Then really Art isn't so bad by comparison.
One day I'll write things like this
In lipstick on bathroom mirrors in train stations
And my world and yours won't play nice together.
Stark raving mad and mutually exclusive.