Sonnet Zero
My love for you is like a dead, black rose
The thorny ends are pointed toward myself
If you don't leave, I'll punch you in the nose
For putting my dead roses on the shelf.
I met your lover, now your lover's dead.
I slashed him up with thorns until he died
Now he is lying in a satin bed
His loveless heart contains formaldehyde
Now you grow roses for a living, and
You clip the thorns and mail them to me.
I pick them up and squeeze them in my hand
Blood dripping from my pretty rosy tree
But watch your buds, because I'm gonna drop
A ton of Agent Orange on your crop.
