I broke the lady planter today. I'm sure none of you know what the fuck i'm talking about, and usually that makes me feel good inside but for some reason I sense an explination coming on...

There's this planter in my bathroom, it's the head of a 50's housewife, the kind of planter, that if I was, in fact a poet, I would have wrote something about it by now. She had blonde short curly hair, and she had her own necklace apart from the ceramic head, they might have been real pearls but I hope not because I threw them out, I guess I'd feel like a real tool If I threw away pearls but anyway she was fucking gorgeous. The kind of housewife you'd imagine fucking up the ass or something, you know, something real raunchy. She was just a ceramic head and she contained a plant that my mother got from my aunt (who isn't really my aunt, but just a close friend of my mother's) when she had her gall bladder removed 20 years ago. The plant was 20 years old, and the Lady planter was at least 50 years old. After I knocked over the lady planter in the bathroom, I immediately rinsed off my hair, and took the shattered pieces of her hot face from the bottom of the tub, her right cheek rinsed down the drain, and I cried for a few crazy minutes, because I wanted to be like this planter lady, and I wanted to fuck her too, which is weird, wanting to fuck a plant pot, but I guess you'll never know how hot she actually was because you don't know me, and I broke her this morning. I called my mother first, and she was upset, and then she told my grandma, and she became immediately distressed as well over this ceramic head, and I called my sister, who is a poet, and she was absolutely distraught over it as well. My other sister is deathly afraid of it, and used to have to turn it around, with the head facing the windowsill everytime she took a shower. She has, at the present moment, not been informed of the incident.