Remnants of Shit

Remnants of shit? Yes. Shit.

Because that is what you are to me, “shit.”

Even more, that is what you will always be, “shit.”

Smelling all brand new, stuck to the bottom of my shoe. Shit.

I curse and spit, as I try to wipe you off. But it’s stuck; like glue!  Shit.

I hope you’re cursed with impotence, never again will you get off. Shit.

I hate you, stupid jerk-off! Shit.

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him!

I’ve given you a new name, even a patronym; Mr. Pile O. Shit.

I hope it rots, and then falls off, your favorite limb. Shit.

Why do I think of him? SHIT!

I fell sick, each time I do, deep in my stomach’s pit. Shit.

I should have just bought new god damn shoes. Shit.

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