Sour

            "Oh come on,
            your sour milk voice can do better than that."
            Wants me to vomit on the page,
            he does.
            My writing teacher is
            disgusting.
            Rip out your vocal cords if you have to,
            lacerate your eyeballs,
            spleen, liver, flesh,
            spread and smear in everybody's face.
            This isn't anatomy class.
            Why do I have to cannibalize myself
            for a few worthless bones of praise?
            "You're missing the point,"
            he says.
            No,
            You missed your own death ages ago,
            carcass in the tossed out skin of some magazine,
            gutter-splashed.
            Choke on your own sewage and
            biled tongue.
            Who's sour now?