Haikuscopes
0influence your pale wan soul
to eat fatty snacks
though an angered motorist
jams it in your skull
when your tortured broken heart
spatters pallbearers
reveals your prints on the fat
dead prostitute's ass
aren't you funny, mister
that-wasn't-chicken?
mosquito tickles my ear
goddamn mosquitoes
what a triumph!–but, oh, crap
all over her thigh
the wrong tool for seppuku
don't let that stop you
ragtag gang of lost children
could never beat us
seven, then five syllables
blah blah fucking blah
dumbass atom-bomb-dropping
white motherfuckers?
perfection in your stagnant
culture, O round-eyes
