Bitch! That whore who makes me mad to speak.
All days in nights and hours lost in minutes fading air.
What company have I received that wasn't loneliness?
To have you near, then scorn you far in lowly absences
Ha! What gentleman lacks nobleness to sneer at me in vain
Of her once brimming aperture, to this, her sluttish kisses
Stuffed in many stranger breaths
whose ghost she cannot spit.
Kill our moments by all tenderness forgotten.
Let me answer you, with what I'll do;
should you pardon me to speak
That if you cannot acknowledge deed,
let all your beauty rot with need.
Wednesday, March 10, 2021