Dehelixing Adora (A Deep Structure Purge)
So, what you’re lying is—
the long-haul love warrants strategery?
You’re such a bucket of bullshit.
Architecturally, the sense you make’s a sham.
You’re a total con, and your text is glitterdildos.
I hate you with confetti and noisemakers.
I de-program these pronouns. Mostly because
I’m sick of you. I file my brain against
what’s graded with broken glass.
What I’ve put myself thru are your extrusions.
Mostly, I mean, this stinks. And the fact is—
we’re no longer friends.
My good news disappears him.
See? He is already he.
atavulga lorgenglock. I hate his every inch.
I glug acid to punish my innards.
They are an embarrassing slosh of dumb.
Alphabetically, it’s ellemenophilia
I’ve been liaisolusional, knelt at mirage.
My tongue raw, lapping at sand.
Nostalgillogical, I’ve fondled this rotten sack
of skeevish ciphers a trifle too long. Believe:
I can this kindness kill; my fondness find its death.
A little righteous rage whets a beauty
the good sort of crooked
for flaying. I learn what will take to extricate:
my language loosening its embrace of you. So,
fly free, flea-bat! Fly! Fly, and elsewhere plague.