Vowels are dug deep, into these pits
That go straight to hell.
(My heart).
Consonants burn in a pile of
Maggots and trash.
(Your heart).
I'll sell you these words if you buy
Me a shovel.
I'll put these letters together and I'll go through the trouble.
(For you).
My red pen is out of ink.
Those ripped up papers have suicide
All.over them.
Burn them with the maggots!
Burn them with the maggots!

This mattress has secrets to tell.
It has your **** smell.
****.