Litkicks Message Board Archive

el cucarracha

Posted to Poetry

it deathdefiently walked onto the table
crossing a twelve high pile up of morning pastries,stopping to rest at its peak
brown slimy green nasty,breeding incurable disease
rancid vermin,putrid infringement of hygene
those beady little fucking eyes,long anteni,bussiness and no pleasure,motus operandi
bathing himself with jelly fill
sleek as lightning get away,the aproach of my impending shoe
im sorry,it was not your day