Ant Smith

Poetry With Audio

Mo Fo

Tobacco strands lie lose upon

My lap and iPhone screen

Ash falls languidly upon

My bent and crooked knees

Coffee cools in paper cup

My elbow soaks the drippings up

Dog shit on the pavement lays

Beneath my tapping foot

People think that I look like

I'm about to spit

Perhaps maybe, perhaps they're right

I've had enough of fucking this

Your breath reeks, your tears burn

Your sweat makes my stomach churn

Your spit splatters like pigeon shit

Your piss constantly drips, drips, drips

Your snot crusted nose covers scabies scabs

You scratch as though you’ve got a dose of crabs

Your love congeals upon impact

You low down worthless fucking twat

Your twisted features seem to drip

Your grim red line, teeth sucking lips

Your cheeks flap each time you grunt

Your face looks like my mother’s cunt

Poetry With Audio