This "poem" is the result of the Double Dog Beetlejuice Dare that Amy King posted as her facebook status update: "Try typing out a poem without meaning it."
cheiloschisis
to set the scene: as a result, i wear tights more now
than i ever have. it is my passion!
my passion is letting the weeds grow high.
this may seem to be, but is not actually
in opposition to my passion, which is plucking
tenderly from the earth weed's tiny moist sprouts
all spring and all summer, one after the next.
to set the scene more fully: my passion is cucumbers -
long lean burpless cucumbers
and, of course, bland fare
of any sort - how ironic then that
my passion is artificial sweeteners.
fact is i hose down everything i eat
with powdered nutrasweet.
the transition to conflict: you will never forgive me.
you will never forgive me. you say
you will, but you will never forgive me.
my passion is some derelict
half-sioux girl in some poedunk town
who, among other things, never
got her cleft lip fixed.
to prove a darkly comedic tone: many times i find myself
feverishly imagining the redundant
mists of the spittle sprays
made as she chides me angrily
for drinking booze, making poopy in my pants,
or poking fun at her atrocious lisp -
O the mist in sunlight. the mist by moon.
~lds09