i always name a poem AFTER i write it (except this one)

this poem is cursed and is a curse

my pants
smell weird
itching inside
feel ugly
feel stupid
sad grumpy
ok boss i say
ok boss i’ll go
ok ok ok
this way/that way
i will shuffle along for you, boss (ok)

smells weird again
need to relax
what in huck-damned the heck is that
lets go to another room

this room is
quite frankly,
chic, y’know it
oozes a certain..

how you say,

class. incredibly
rich, kind of
visceral, a piece as
vicious as it is
ok what shall we do
what shall we get up to
what what what
come on come on come on
no you choose firtz
ok lets go

🎵itchy finger itchy palm
awkward places
to have itched

itchy finger itchy palm
the itch is deep
the itch is deep

itchy finger itchy palm
where-abouts unknown of d’itch/i’said-them where-abouts unknown
where-abouts un-known of d’itch/i’said-them where-abouts unknown

it’s the itchy kids! yeah, the itchy kids!
it’s the end of the song!
n’ we hate school!
n’ we’re the itchy kids! well it’s the itchy kids!
n we’re gonna attack you!
n we hate you!!!
gonna slap you and attack you and scratch you
gonna break the skin, gonna flay you
we’re the itchy kids/we’re gona wear you!🎵