Thrash Personals

Thrash personals jot

The hot spot of his full stop.

A crooked love lust thrust

Twitch fingers to the sky.

Devour the page

Taste his fat slap rage

Sharpening his numb tongue

To tear her heart out.

Do not alight here.

Fear drowning in both their mere tears

Out bloodshot eyes, she cries

She never wanted to see him again.

Door to floorboard scramble

For a preamble of peace.

Blunt shock stops the locks

And throws the babe from home cradle.

Clumsy words dash burns on his temple.

The bouquet of apologies dropped dead

In his rot down head, hands red

With proof of the fool.