POSITIVITY
Pockets Full of Happy Punctuations
Why write in whiny ampersand and live in loathing with no full stop?
From the morning you deign
to get up to grab hold of your pen
The words you write, even punctuations,
are packed full of pain.
The images you create are cleaved
in serrated commas of whine
While fogged pictures you forged
show nothing would ever be fine.
Each line you weld to sentences
in your vamped-up-hating paragraphs
Drips of colonic apostrophes
of resentment akin to autographs.
Acidic asterisks that are there,
like the brackets of shrill ill-will
Could not dash or hyphenate
the misery you want us to feel.
But the us, alas, finally pulled away
in a flash of point to exclaim!
We have enough of your bile
your rubbishy, nonsensical claim.
While the object of your rage
is keeping an ellipsis of dignity
Questions marking…