Haiku for my new professor
You fat, turgid fuck.
You whine about climbing stairs.
Go iron your clothes.
—–
Strange, you look like a
fucking fat slob. Oh, wait. Right.
You are a fat slob.
—–
Wirey hair, bald spot.
Beady eyes, man tits and gut.
May I please kill you?
—–
I see you and gag.
I hate you so fucking much.
Die die die die die.
—–
You speak, get winded,
and lean on your desk. Must be
time for a movie.