May 2
A poem for my step-dad
Your cloacous lips only spew viscid, oily words which smell like lipids and stomach bile.
The ooze of your memory is putrid your grimy mucilaginous hands or your feculent smile
As you slabber over innocence and purity like a pedophile.
You are dog shit slurred over a lesion and crusted over,
Mired in the dross of lardaceous skin with dung on both shoulders.
Now I am besmirched as your mephitic stench lingers.
But I slough off your ichor and grease, I am caustic.
I am the lye in the soap, burning away your filth like antiseptic,
Transcending beyond your slabber into the deep, tranquil, blue Pacific.