Poem: I Don't Like You

You are a plaster on an arse wipe finger

and you smell just like a public bog

you're a hairbrush that a dog has pissed on

You smell like an incontinent dog


Your voice is like a scratched up record

nails scraping down a school chalkboard

your house smells like a split side bin bag

or smeared roadkill that spent 2 weeks on the floor


Your touch is like a warm raw chicken fillet

a week older than its use by date

your breath smells like a salvaged dog end

mixed with strongbow and a jar of princess salmon paste


You’ve got rancid sour milk smelling armpits

with blackheads on your shoulder blades

you’ve got love bites on your pustuled neck line

How does a meff like you ever get laid?


Your jeans have smudged up greasy knee caps

I bet there’s skid marks on your well worn draws

dried to flower potting standard clay stains

You’ve got a limp caused by abrasion 

from your shit stained baggy smalls


Brush your teeth with some sulphuric acid

and wipe your nose to clear your crusty upper lip

change your furniture to something less like 

fish brine lacquered stumps

not a ripped one from your neighbour’s lash out skip


You’re a cuticle that’s stripped back to the knuckle

you’re an ingrown hair that’s formed a cystic lump

your yellow fingers look like Aldi’s rip off Wotsits

You're a follow through from an upset tummy trump


A shower would be good to start with

And see a barber for a much needed trim

Then a trip to Primark’s cheap but trendy bottom floor

You should upgrade to their 2 quid bargain bin!


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