Body Parts and Curse Words Symphony Poem
(7/5/2014)

So, you think I'm an *******?
Well then my farts must smell like roses,
because I treat you the sweetest anyone could dare to stomach.
You count mistakes I've made like calories,
forgetting you are a strangling esophagus,
coated in cholesterol and stuffed with lies.
You flex between smooth to striated as visibly as a zig-zag line,
but even as I try to pass you out of my sphincter like the **** you are,
you keep finding ways to come back up my throat like acid reflux.
But I, am an *******.

So, you think I'm a *******?
Well then you must be a kidney stone,
because you refuse to leave my life any less painfully,
than an unwanted calcium deposit in my urethra.
Nice to meet ya, now bye Felicia.
***** as they come,
you ***.
Because you like to torture me,
clutching that red beating thing in my chest,
with the fierceness of a ****** clamp.
But I, am a *******

So, you think I'm a *****?
Well then I am honored to be seen as so sensitive,
because you must be a  brutal ******* crammed into my face.
Which is funny,
because you'll have your face buried in me soon enough.
You exhaust your *****-eating arsenal,
including flicks of your wicked tongue and lips,
a tiny bite as an exercise of your might.
But I'm the one here who is in control.
So call me a raging thunder **** and make my day,
because you hide in ******* disguise,
now don't be scared little guy and stare into Momma Medusa's eyes.
But I, am a *****.

So, you think I have ***** eyes?
Well then maybe you give judgmental stares,
because you are faced with a ***** reflection in the mirror,
but don't blame the fragile glass surface.
The one with smudges and stains, until it shatters,
because these eyes are no simple *** object.
They are the most beautiful brown bestowed upon my body,
and they are filled with the anger,
filled with the rage,
and filled with the envy which accompanies sorrow.
***** eyes, **** eyes,
but gaze into these eyes that are relentlessly unforgiving, named Hazel.
as if they had a name for human pieces of flesh filled with blood.
But I, have ***** eyes.

You wave these body parts around so casually,
wielding them like words used to curse someone.
You scream that they are used to sell ***.
But my body parts are no curse words,
and my body parts are no mere objects.

They are woven together to create a breathtaking symphony.
They don't belong in a sarcophagus, still alive and breathing,
my heart is here and beating,
as much as that ******* may ****,
as much as that **** may ****,
as much as that ***** may throb,
and as much as those eyes may stare,
don't you dare ever go there.

Because while I may be a compilation of body parts and curse words,
you are just beef jerky, a food mindlessly consumed, and overly salty.