My first new poem in almost three years. Before revisions of course.

You Are Dead to Me, but I’ll Still Say “Hi” at parties.

Null and void

core destroyed

dead heart employed

in the service of emptiness.

Yer ma’s teat

a dry defeat

causing that bleat:

sweet music for the solipsist.

Inane child

id run wild

chin-wagging pile

into night going bald, not bold.

Exorcised

exercised

you are excised,

this poem my final “fuck you”.