it’s here

the modified claim
it should say zero
file an amended excuse for lethargy

i’m subverting the judge’s luncheon by torpedo

you laugh like a wimple wearing super coquette

leave me alone in my misery and lack of awareness

such a misanthrope
nothing surpasses this
other than fey incels
or psychopaths

go away mental illness
go back to your cool places—
the dark bat caves—
and bay leaf bazaars

i finger a pair of ears in my pockets

hold on, son, you say—
are those your grandfathers ears?

(silence)

because if it was good enough for grandad,
it’s good enough for me

the meatloaf gives
me burps

you click your heels and sing
fuckity fuck, fucking fuck

remember the modified claim …

it should say zero

“There’s nothing worse than having someone hand your fears to you gift-wrapped.”

— Betina Gonzalez / American Delirium