noone's ever died from dying
it took me twenty minutes just to utter that
my words, failed losers, are getting fat
and drinking themselves stupid into submission

steak on a grill is so anti-evolutionary
i can't watch it sizzle without denying my instincts
the moist night humms with exgirlfriends and insects
intending, quite plainly, to suck out my blood

sticks made for tree-hugging are barely helping
support the emasculated cry-baby torso i've grown into
lipstick-covered jaws switch to 'why?' after exhausting the 'who?'
and romance again discovers a pothole