Warts

Warts

 

I've read the more you pick a wart,

the more stubborn it will grow

and the further the buggers spread.

The tighter the weave of a fishing net

the more let slip the minnows -

add spammers to your blocked list,

you risk growing bastard cysts,

a monstrous carbuncle of ineloquent fiends,

grifting purveyors of half-assed schemes:

 

I mean, seriously -

Who in shit are Cheech and Chong,

and why should we care?

What is it they dare do there

with cruise chews, hemp,

and who this side of sane, would send

off their intimate particulars?

 

I looked into it, you know -

warts, I mean, and how they grow.

You get your filiforms, plantars, 

some are fat with virus,  flat

and they named a brand of peanuts for that,

dry roast, if you’re asking –

then, here’s the kicker:

those black spots are blood vessels

make them grow quicker.

 

So, if you’re a habitual picker - stop.

 

Let warts have a pyrrhic victory,

or they’ll only evolve into something slicker.

Next time you’re messaged, my advice,

play along with them, put something nice,

non-committal, threaded string-alongs:

 

‘no, no, nothing wrong,

dear, I’m totes made up with your random

message, and how may I assist?

Why, you unsolicitous dog, if you insist,

well, naturally, I can’t resist.'

 

They won’t tell you, of course -

working from some lame-arsed script

a stickleback trying to reel you in

like a scab you’re half picked -

but, you're on to the trick,

the senders are pricks,

painting growths with acid 

they hope will burn,

have some fun with illiterate scum

and when you’re done, my son,

remind them it’s time they grew some,              

tell them go screw themselves

and fuck right off.