The nice girl who doesn’t swear.

I’m a nice girl who doesn’t swear.
So crack my head open
And pour the contents
Onto a frying pan,
Hear the squawk and sizzle
Of protein cooking with the past.
Throw the empty shell in the garbage,
And stir the browning contents,
Bet you thought a nice girl like me
Knows no bad words, no cuss words.
You’d be right.
Expletives are a strange kind of honest,
And I like my world glazed with deceit.
So I store my words in a dank, dripping cellar:
Tight.
Airless.
Hot, like a predator’s breath.
My words aren’t coarse, they are smooth,
Like poisoned wine, a bit fruity at times.
Cursing is too well adjusted;
My words foam, like rabid dogs
Enunciations flapping in the air like jowls.
My words aren’t in bad taste either
They are however likelier to dissolve the tongue.
Bet you’d bet a face like this could know no violence,
And that woodland creatures hop in and out of my dreams,
That my world is lit by leprechaun rainbow power
Because I am so very nice, and so very good.
Lets go with that then,
Wearing a wide-eyed, wide grin,
And talk lovely things about the nice girl,
The nice girl who doesn’t swear.
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