I got a tattoo
to forget you,
and as I walk to the
forgetful Rumbler,
the stupid song reminds me
that I am just two toes
or two stanzas deep.
I am a little man
who sticks by his
poetry or his clock,
spread these days,
the clock hits the spot.
My mouth, my words,
my rain took to the sky,
there is as slut that lets
nobody else,
but me.
So kill me,
perfect before
and less
tempts more.
eight me ate,
forth me four.
suck.