Hot Piss

Hello little lovestruck leech, are you lost?
You’ve sacrificed it all for him;
Your identity and opinions gone,
Your support network is paper-thin
Perhaps that’s why your stale thoughts
Lack conviction: the world’s through his eyes.
At least he has fire in hateful words
Your only care’s between your thighs
Wake up from your stupor, princess;
Do his sugared words make you cry?
And when you’ve routinely fucked again
I wonder if you ever wonder why
You’re isolated from them and I,
And since you’re isolated from reality,
If you think kisses are the only cure -
They are your practised speciality,
And of course, no lovers have ever been
So intensely, deeply in love as you two.
You wreck my sweet tooth,
Cooing syrupy prose as though it’s true.
So, charmless Heathcliff and bargain-bin Cathy,
Take your mindless ‘love’ away,
Go to some pornographic playschool
And get back on your knees; you have nothing else to say.