I Like F

I like F.

i like the way it makes my friends shudder after they receive back that paper,

2 amputated arms growing out of a bold line to mark their failure,

whatever that means.

even unkind D is preferred,

though it's doubtful and dull,

and comes after C,

a carnivorous vein that bears the mark of cain but still yet not quite as foreboding as

The most cancerous of all,

the vowel fills the deflating leather of a soundless couch in humid weather,

sinking into sour-scented sheepskin that seeps into the sound-shells of your skull before it's spoiled,

when the skin still sticks

to your skull, that is

fff

mimicking the sound of you thus sinking into your seat upon freight, F marks failure,

it says "you are fragile,"

makes you think you are a vase

the second before it breaks

To be false,

or to eventually fall?

this poem failed

fuck.