Alexander,

your all is vile

even the shadow curses your name

as you siphon off the living

into an early grave

you are cruder than the oil

earth holds like ash in urn

made in a fever feeding frenzy

of tandem stomach churns

no one will write you an enneagram

to match your crooked face

they will bag you twice in caustic bleach

and burn you with the hazard waste

and

no one will mourn you

and

no one will cry

and

no one will miss you

but I