lament edge
You reveled in pouring words on the landfill.
Adolescent words, fresh from the mold,
All swooping and scratchy,
Caps-locked and hapless,
Your own microscopic monument
Of ecstasy and angst.
Since then
Your mother has raised you better.
She taught you to swallow words
Like a bulimic. Flush each sheet,
Your archives
A paper-cut throat.
The ink in your piss.
Better heaps of leaf-litter,
Better bloody-blue vomit
Than handicraft debris
With a half-life thrice plastic.
What is a word? A stain on the tooth.
A stain on the tongue.
Will you tear it out?