50/50 SPLIT by John Tustin

Your words grind me down
the anabolic sameness of them,
like tires slowly
continually
decimating the street.

You are disappointing
daily
like the blackheads on my nose
in every morning mirror.

And now you are nothing more
than mosquitoes in the night
that are not worth
turning on the light
and searching for
to kill.

But you wrote this
poem
and many others
with your filthy mouth
and abhorrent actions –
I just put them down –
so I guess I owe you something.

Just not half.

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Black-Listed Magazine is an online literary magazine. We publish on a rolling basis: weekly, daily, sometimes hourly. Send submissions here: blacklistedmagazine@hotmail.com