Lady:

I can smell your perfume in the exhaust-fume-filled parkade a full 5 minutes after you passed through. You smell like the cosmetics section of  Walmart crawled up into, and subsequently died inside of, the corpse of a Giant Anus Beast.

You can’t cover ugly with reek.

A Haiku Cycle for the Creamsicle Women: The peroxide blondes with fake orange tans.

Like a winter leaf,

You tumble, awkwardly off

Your broken high heels

…………………………………..

Your perfect orange skin

The hottest oompa loompa

I have seen today

…………………………………..

Your spray tan hits you

Like the mist off the ocean

Only, retarded.

…………………………………..

Did you just say “what?”

Or did you mean “pardon me”

Fuck you, creamsicle.

…………………………………..

Mountains form slowly,

Over geologic time

Or for five grand each.

…………………………………..

A perfect flower

Smells  sweetly, and much less like

The cosmetics aisle.

…………………………………..

Bleach thins your hair and

Soon, like an autumn leaf, shows

your empty skull.

…………………………………..

Like a mushroom grows,

You bulge out of your small pants .

Just buy your real size.

…………………………………..

Drunk just before noon,

You smell like margarita,

Carrying your child.

…………………………………..

With your make up off,

It must be like seeing death,

If death was a whore…

…………………………………..

RobbieRobTown