A Calculated Mess Poem by Thomas Case

She had that
doggy style lust,
bent and broke,
taking life hard
and fast from behind.
She had the eyes of
a serial killer,
with a splash of rainy afternoon sadness.
I met her at the
homeless shelter, and her
soul was a
vagabond with a vengeance,
her heart an abyss.
Life had fucked her
up beyond repair.

No way was love gonna'
fix that train wreck,
that calculated mess.
In the end,
the best I
could do
was not slip
away with her.