DEAR POET

“Blah, blah, blah!”

That's all your sand paper

words look like to me when

I read them

My eyes are going to

die of ocular overload

and you'll be charged

with manslaughter

due to the to crossword

puzzle nonsense

you are trying

to put together and

pass off as poetry

I'm not saying I'm

better than you,

but I am saying that

I'm better off having

not read the dribble

you just wrote

which my eyes

happen to catch

sight of

How will I get back the

three minutes of

my life I wasted reading

your city trash you threw

in front of me?

Who's going to clean up

the shit you just smeared in

to my eyes?

Dear poet, go “f” yourself

until you can write

something better, because

your abstractions

are causing hair

to grow back on

top of my scalp