To That Bitch

To that bitch:

Dear Claws,

Razor Sapphic! It is not because
you are
rainbow bracelets,
San Francisco night life;
a glint
bitch. It is your kitty
tongue,

your unshaved
mutter
blame

scratching at my back,
your safe post.
Finger fangs dangling from
deep
within.

It’s not you, It’s me.

It’s me! Tonight, I peeled your vocal
bite-sized
fingernails
out of my breadbasket!

It is stuffed
to excess!
I held
as your turkey, your three year turkey,
my shank bitch,
you sliced me
in to several pieces
to consume
over
time, over
time, over
time,

chomping,
chewing,
sucking the protein
out of me.

Tonight though,
my meat is old,
unkept,

Staphylococcus!

Swallow me, Sapphic Bitch!
I want
to be your cramps, fever, nausea!
From your inside,

ejecting myself from you!

It is not because you are Sapphic.
It is
razor sharp
finger-tips
dipping in to my smooth skin!

Deprecating Tongues

wicked strikes
on
language
reaching
over seas
across
time difference
plaguing
mental disease
on
populations, tribes,
nationalities

breathe in polluted
words
breathe out
anxious
injurious
leftovers

bipolar whispers
grumbling fault finders
sniveling rascals
serial hope killers
poisoning
airways
stench upon
putrid vocabulary stench

virtually
grasping hands around
necks
and squeezing spirits
away.