A Message From My Soul Mate

On the very first day of my eighteenth year
I woke with a start and a pain
I gazed straight down to the home of my groin
And observed a thing most insane

Fresh ink had been drilled into my young skin
Bright black and wet in its craft
The words flowed forth from my button of belly
And down past the base of my shaft

The text was quite clear in Courier font
Remains of a late birthday bash
A message of nag from my soul mate-to-be
“Take out all the goddamn trash!”

Say something!