Worst

Worst

I won’t put a picture with these words
So you have to think of it yourself
Before you point it out to Francesca
No, this doesn’t rhyme or
Have a rhythm or meter
Except the one that runs
As you taxi to a destination
Like Guam
Peanuts are salty
Except the unsalted ones
Which sounds like something Confucius would say
If he were alive today
And spoke English
Rhett didn’t give a damn
But a beaver will build a dam, frankly
You sit on the toilet of despair
Hoping the madness will pass
Into the bowl of sorrow
And the paper of hope
Will wipe away the pain
You also hope you aren’t stranded with no hope
Trapped into the hard decision
Of whether to use the socks of rescue
Or the underwear of salvation
To cleanse your captive soul
So that you may flush away the bad memories
And not stop up the emotions
Flooding the restroom of life
Because you will not be able to return
For several hours
Unless you light the match of good dreams
In this way, each of us
Something something
I forgot what I was going to say
Which is probably for the best
Just like you are picturing it right now
In the cobwebs of your brain
All goopy in your head
This poem is awful
But at least it has no artistically or emotionally redeeming value or sentiment attached to it
And the lines aren’t too long
And it’s done
One more line
One more
Not yet
Nope
Nope
Not this one either
Okay
Now

13 thoughts on “Worst

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