winters bane
fogs on
my breath
I detest the taste
of mint
toothpaste
at six
in the morning
it fucks
with my coffee
and my toilet
can’t bear
another stench of you
 
you are
vindictive
and evil
vile
and disturbing
like the petals
on a broken rose
butchered by thorns;
you have no concept
of pretty
 
you’ve broken
my poetry
into a cardiac dismal
and there is no love
here                                                            for you
in the forest
of my dark
for I am
nameless
faceless
blameless
a creature
you’ve mentally raped
by the cannabis
of your psychosis
and self-prophesized
misery
 
excuse me
while I rip out
your pages of poetic pity
lodged in your fucking
throat
for not even worth
you are
of a histories
history
 
we could have been
something
and now
you’re nothing
 
and I think
I actually like it
this way