Making Sense

How and where and why can one make sense?

Weapon of Mass Destruction

This is the yellow book
that i use
for killing cockroaches.

Kill? No. Rather i
Smash them, or think i do
And then throw the rascals out
And they pretend to be deceased
Till i turn away and vroom!
They fly back in.

This little book,
18cenimetre by 15 centimetre
has seen a lot of cockroach blood,
or whatever that flows inside them.

To them i must be a King
of genocide, wiping out their
species in a swipe, doing things
that no nuclear war can.

I abhor cockroach.
The sickly smell of a roach
inside my skull drives me mad.

The thought that one may even some close
to touch my lips, or worse, kiss!
I'd rather kill them all.

The yellow book lies silent.
Inside you may see a bit of math
And a lot of the nonsense that passes
for college. Outside you
can see roach debris,
Sticking and stinking to high heaven.