Black Beneath the Skin: "Spring Weeding"

Lick
your purple lips;
taste the sattire,
the bleeding irony
in your lies.

Is it as bitter as powdered cooking cocoa?

Or is it
a slow burn,
jalapeño juices clawing maliciously a
t your tastebuds,
laughing at your teeth
and what they won't cease to gnaw at?

Leave your tobacco spittle in hard,
frothing puddles
like black daisies
to a crack
in the sidewalk.

I've had enough of weeds