drove me insane with its incertitude

loco with its bravado

appalled at its gall

these bastard eleven symbols

juxtapose an oxidised moron

full of fizz to fill a throat

with vapid gas

condescending senses

senselessly

an innocent tart

all honey spiked with vinegar

is mercenary with no fee

and collects rain only to

condense

prying open to reveal nada

a moronic slur

from a critic in the pocket of millionaires