11/25/09 (“Stardust” Laced with Cyanide)
Did cupid choke too hard?
Why didn’t he shoot arrows?
The flint would be easier to take
Than the string of his bow
He used as a noose
Your temper tantrums though
Are what Jimi Hendrix sounds like on violins
What cupid’s catchupa tastes like with caviar
Instead of a fried egg
The aroma of toast
While comatose
Never waking for breakfast
Because it’s “mourning”
And that time of day is a homonym
For the expressions of sorrow I feel
Tomorrow I will
Rethink your temperate
Not as metaphor
Or me as a matador
Sucking your breast
Til the angry bull dozed off
I should have bulldozed all
My bullshit aside, and loved you dangerously
With a bull’s eye on my chest, so aim at me
Cupid could shoot a bazooka
A Gatling gun,
An arrow of Nat King Cole
“Stardust “ laced with cyanide
And you’d dress the wounds in
Aloe lotions whose
Main ingredients were poison ivy
And Black Widow spider venom
And you would kiss the bruises
