Maybe I should be blunt
as a blood-stained club

but I've never been so strong,
I doubt I could lift it up

let alone swing it
at least,
not hard enough

-
Maybe I should write a note
a sonnet, or a song

show you the view from my boat,
have the sea sing along

still, I doubt the sea would,
she sees I'm no prince,
my words aren't wet enough

-
Maybe I should painstakingly, purposefully and adamantly drown
each torpid, tactless, lurid verse, each vile, venomous, lustful line

in a soup of sumptuous, superfluous superlatives
designed to move you as intervention from divine

bleed an inky parade of adoration
from vein, to pen, to page.
I could never shed enough.