This poem won’t help

This poem won’t help take away

the tomato stain.  I don’t know what will

my teddy bear.  Move on.

Keep rotting with me and Henry

the christmas cactus.

Weep over the dead god or your

piece of violent nature.

Sob with bubbles at your nose holes

so hard you get a headache

Do it in the morning before anyone

awakes and accept that your heart is

a black bean cheese bake

Wish for something that you

can replace and hope that you

can hold out for some moist cake

Perhaps there is enough for you

if  my piece is a mini marble

Do you mind if your piece is pre chewed?