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They shove my dinner

Fritz Hamilton

They shove my dinner thru the hole in my cell door/ if
I don’t like it, I’ll complain on my cell phone (tee hee)/ it’s
porridge, of course, that they’ve spit & pissed in, & now

it’s for me to eat it/ the rat gets to it first & takes a few
sickening bites/ I don’t mind, he brushes his teeth twice
a day with my toothbrush before taking a nap on my

filthy pillow/ Poe enters from my telltale heart wolfing down
his laudanum & fingering Annabelle Lee the bar maid’s
bottom while sniveling about his wretchedness/ I try to

soothe him by sharing my porridge, which pisses off my
rat/ Poe claims the rat belongs to him/ I tell him to
write his own damn tales/ he puts the rat in his pocket &

sends the coat to Beaudelaire who fornicates with the rat.
Marlowe forgives him. “Thou hast committed fornication.
Well then, thou has committed fornication.but that was in
another country & besides the

wench is dead.” Beaudelaire finds the rat dead in his
pocket. He gives her mouth to mouth resuscitation, &
her tongue bursts out in flame/ he knows it
“shall never excite his paralytic flesh
with the red sun & love its common name.” &

love its common name ...

! (burst
burst ...
!)

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