Cancer Cure

I still check my pockets for Love Notes
And Hate Mail and cigarettes and a lighter;
You are a vicious toxic cancer
Speaking in cells without the command to stop
Production. I choke down a little
Vomit when I encounter you, the stomach
Acid taste remaining to remind
Me of my distaste for you; I would rather
Gag on regurgitation than waste
Even one more moment with your company.
I acquiesced to apathy months
Ago and I asked God for an accident,
I'm really so sick from staring at
The giant mistake in front of me. I'd bathe
You in chlorine, feed you gasoline,
Peel back the membrane from each of your
Highly infected skin cells and make
A toast to health and longevity, guffaw
At the irony as my life became
One of soft tranquility.

Cancerous behemoth, you make me
Sick, I regret existing on the day we
Met. I've a cure for disease but, could
You maybe handle things for me?
It would be great to save all of the soap that I would need.