On the first day of Christmas my ex girlfriend sent to me
The cartridge from a 303
Two purple thumbs
Three French hit men
Four appalling turds
Five mouldy things
Six geese decaying
Seven swans a swimming (in blood)
Eight maids a milking (at gunpoint)
Nine ladies dancing (in their own filth)
Ten druglords a leaping (the fence)
Eleven vipers viping
Twelve tonnes of transcripts (of every conversation we’ve ever had written in tiny flawless handwriting plus grainy black and white photos of me being intimate with other women as well as contracts for hit men that she employed to take out members of my family and friends)