by William Skink
This poem is dedicated to JT. Enjoy!
I'm no fan of mockingbirds high on lines, dropping turds departing when the copper's gone then back to sing a bunker song I'm no fan of octopi takers of the tax and lie zoning drones attack the codes kill yourself would be their hope books and bullets, bitch, lets dance around your silly pronoun prance you can identify as HORSE but nature cannot take its course when psychos strangelove in your mind imposing cubic Saturn time tie a black belt, break a sweat modest caskets are the best