Funny Guy.
Ben Dunne.
Do I appear to care?
I certainly do not adhere to care!
Don't act surprised,
when I accuse you of lies.
Does my light feet,
shuffling shuffling,
paint a picture,
with my voice,
muffling muffling?
Obviously not, when a blot,
of ink, on an interpretation of
your attention silences my absence
of interest.
I revise your demise,
planning my hate,
prohibiting it to dissipate,
holding on fiercely,
treating it seriously,
whilst I call you,
names, brutally, subtly.
Never coming face to face.
Multiplying myself,
twice, like your jokes,
repetitive, old like a,
cancer.
Oh what is that?
A reference to an,
internet phenomenon?
I can read you,
like a book,
where I am,
the protagonist.
You plagiarise,
meeting no compromise,
causing frustration,
at your surplus of your personal,
ego's humour
You're a sick fuck.
You're nothing but a lightweight.
You call it loyalty?
I call it deceit,
I call it being a whore,
I call it being a traitor,
I call it being your twin,
made for each other,
constructed for one another.
Love, like the format of vultures,
or royalty.
Oh what is that?
A fact about poetry?
A fact about a generic subject?
A fact about facts?
I do know poetry is so and so,
I do know that generic subject is taught,
halfway across the world, in a teetering,
cottage, perched upon a teetering rock.
I do know your facts are factual.
I already know,
don't repeat yourself.
As I said,
