Warm In The Winter, Cold In The Rain Poem by DAVID GERARDINO

A brittle whore with defunct eyes,
some call you a prodigy, others
a long lost art,

miss plath, tell us how it feels to be
dead, is it every thing you thought
it should be,
miss sextan, do you laugh more now
that your in heaven,

A brittle whore with defunct eyes,
your books are every where, except in
heaven,

mr pollock,
mr hemmingway,
miss farmer,
mr kirk,
mr doors,

A brittle whore with defunct eyes,
they write, and write, then hide, and
hide, even mr fitzroy is going down,
or up, still its better to love, and live,
in world where real peaple are blowing
and killing each other with guns, and
bombs.

MISS plath would you like to come
back down here on earth, f..ck...no.
MISS sextan, ........f..ck no.