My wife and I have a running joke
that our cat does not understand the need for names
and so calls everything Charlie.
Charlie Moth. Charlie Dog. Charlie Horse.
But stop smoking Melissa, I’ve done it and it burns
like a tentpole thrust into the moon’s surface
or a dolphin beached by SONAR. SONAR CHARLIE! SONAR!
Charlie Baylis. Charlie Bailiff. Charlie Bail of Hay.
Hey! When have you ever been here for me?
I didn’t see you at my wedding, or when I scream at night,
or the birth of my daughter (trick question, that’s July).
CHARLIE! CHARLIE! CAROL!
I will burn your house down and then we’ll see how you sleep
on a pincushion or a cloud, or a woollen cactus for £12.
It’s always sunny in Cornwall. It’s always sunny in Cornwall.
Pepe Silvia. There’s no Carol in HR.
This office is a Goddamn ghost town.
– Aaron Kent
burn my house down! you sly motherfucker!
i’m so glad i poisoned your cat.
i haven’t been this pissed off since the editor of the paris review pissed on my shoe.
i haven’t had this much fun since i told taylor swift her poetry was godawful
amid the subsequent nuclear fall out
i was accused of misogyny, terrible hair,
vomiting on unicorns, shoplifting from the aaron kent superstore.
i was told not to submit to the eighty nine very boring poetry
reviews of oxfordshire and gloucestershire
selena gomez – is it too late to say sorry?
aaron of kent. kantish aaron. aaron kant.
go bieberfile your fingernails
the sun shines in cornwall
except the day i arrive
douse your new rollerblades in petrol
place dynamite under your asshole
blast you into outer mongolia
strangle your cat for the ninth time.
– Charlie Baylis