Ice for Tanis
My soul is like spilled rice,
my heart a comma splice.
I beg the Great Wyrm Caterpilius to be nice
and send to the broom, lice.
For he has swept me up twice
into the dustpan, who my heart did further dice.
She was a skateboarding anarchist with lots of spice,
but she soon dumped me in the trash can as if her heart was made of ice.
This trash can felt anorexic because she hadn't had a slice
of pizza since the time of Christ.
Finally I would suffice!
