My late arrival to this gathering of cannibals,
innocuous, unnoticed,
a quiet slip at your behest.
Excuse my sharp elbows.
Behold my booming acumen.
I'm loud and I've watched,
waited within your system
because you wanted a wallflower,
but instead you invited my obnoxious beauty.
Look at me!
Your party sucks.
The punch is spiked with cheap vodka
and everyone notices that you forgot food.
Paltry, stale ambiance as ancient and unvaried as your guests.
Invited and expected to be a bandaid,
but you don't need a fix.
You need an eraser, a wrecking ball,
an understanding
that if I have to clean this
disgusting, filthy, stupid mess
alone, I will
on my hands and knees
scour the earth with fire.
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