Get off my fucking couch.
Pretentious, legs rent open and lips so bloated
that you sound dumb, you are dumb.
It seems to burn and bubble where you stroke my face,
dirt and sickened simplicity tints your tongue,
[I hate your taste]
Obesity plasters my cushions, so gather those
condensed plastic tears that litter my floor
in the form of beer cans and magazines
and sweep out of my life –
You’re my one night stand that never
got off of his back.
