Serving students and faculty since 1971

My adoration is like hot trash
The gunk you find in your kitchen grease trap
Mine affection is milk, forgotten in the sun
Sourdough starter way overdone

Or perhaps the feelings I bare
Have me far worse for wear
More akin to blue cheese and burnt hair

These butterflies – they’re really just flies
Swarming a dumpster and the person inside
My fantasies of you are like rotting meat
Or Aiden Hutchinson’s post-game feet

I think it’s finally been enough
Smelling this is just too much
Being alone isn’t quite like a rose,
But I’ll take the bath with its garden hose

Once I’m free of all your stink,
There might be room for me to think
Then I wouldn’t write more garbage like this,
Because let’s face it, these words are sh**