[Mister Saint]: 79.Mature.The Death of F

[Mature]
Every piece of writing in this section is meant for an adult audience.

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The Death of Fuck

We have our reasons for the murder.
There's honor in intent and no one knew we'd come to this.
It's meaningless, these days, to lift one's middle finger -
except in traffic.

To write a poem, harsh and full of grit and bile,
one can pile the magic F in boxes, kegs, and barrels
overflowing with the language of the vaunted 'dirty word'.

I heard a lady read a tale
employing cunts and countless
fucks,
and by the time she'd finished
neither word meant all that much.

Movies, music, games, the people
everywhere I go are saying
fuck.
They shout it, bark it, whisper it
so much its lost its mystery
like nudists stop to think that boobs
are all that fucking interesting.

Fuck
is a pickaxe, blunted
with a thousand strokes in stone.
A needle broken, passed
a million times through leather folds.
Fuck
is the googleplex of sex
that we endure from our TV's.
A nonstop flood of boobs and butt
that takes away the love for love.

We've killed the word, stone cold.

Alas poor fuck.