Another Poem for Dani
You’ve been married
For about half a year now
And no closer to happiness
Even the comfort the bottle brings
Is thwarted by the Mormonic dogma
That runs so rampant in your home state
I would have shared your birthday and your bed
Woken you with coffee and little kisses upon the cheek
California was always an option
You always had other options
So now you lay tortured
In your picket-fence purgatory
Sick to the skinny stomach
That will likely soon swell and distend
With the inaugural child
Which will further drain the life
From your chapped teat
And maybe I sit here
With only bitter chords for company
But I have my relative integrity
And you’ll never read this anyway
Horror Sleaze Trash 