musings at my grandmother's on a lonely thursday.

i am utterly convinced
that someday i will choke on a snowflake and drown
or drink the ketchup
that expired when i was eight years old but still sits
in your refrigerator
or perhaps i will contract
ink poisoning from the sticker on the marvelous cuntboy’s tongue
that is just like
the ones they stick on apples
shipped south america
to suburbia
or hopefully
somebody will just strangle me
for my distaste for rhyming
poets and systems in three equations
(i need to get
what’s coming to me)