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