Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

A mad chick is a bloodstain on a white skirt.

She has no mother of her own but gave birth

to herself in a shell or a dustbin. Every time

you cut off the head of a mad chick, two more

sprout in her place. Men want to fuck us

but wouldn’t spit on a mad chick if she

was on fire. Right now, a mad chick

is cosying up to your girlfriend on a velvet

chaise longue. Your new boss is a mad chick,

perhaps your mother was a mad chick

which is why you hate them now. Watch out,

the mad chicks are in the street outside,

ripping up the pavement with their tombstone

teeth, smashing shop fronts with their wings,

now there is nothing in this world that can stop them.