Yogurt

anyone who makes fun of me for this is getting doxxed

Poetry,
is sort of gay.

Like Cricket and Beauregard
and clemency and podcasts
and Seasonal Color Analysis 

I feel naked without rhyme and meter
Like when a bitch drags me into Sephora
or Victoria's Secret
I don't belong here.
Where's that frilly pink shit babe I hate all this it's fucking gross

anyway a few months back I spilled milk in my fridge
and being well-acquainted with the famous adage
my dry eyes watched as it fermented into Yogurt
an acquired taste for sophisticated palettes
and strong stomachs

the thing is you never really leave high school
unless you're me and graduate when you're fourteen
by shamelessly cheating your way through an online program
on your Laptop.
Can you guys explain what high school is like?

I've learned Faustian Bargains are their own drug
first you develop a habit
and then it becomes a tolerance
and before you know it
you're sticking your hand in the fuckin toaster just to get out of bed in the morning

Predator pimp, or simpering simp? 
Likely to fuck, or confoundable cuck? 
He said, She said, You said, Jew said
It's hardly Grugga's fault she needs to eat once Grug is dead!

yippity yappity, bippity bappity, agency shmagency!
That shit works both ways.
Is it suddenly a secret the prettiest of petals hide the sharpest of thorns?
Take a sniff and get a poke. Simple as. 
But that shit works both ways.
And how lovely it is the both of us can afford such resplendent gloves!

Yet I'm not so certain my palette quite extends to Limburger Cheese
and perhaps it isn't always unseemly to mourn spilled milk
earnestly
straightforwardly
sans protective mediation

Because sometimes the milk was genuinely that good. 

Also what are they gonna do, call me gay? 
I'm already writing poetry.