The Artists Mourns his Mary Jane

This was a poetry assignment that I had to do. I'm posting it bc I'm pretty please overall with the outcome. Also, I think this one may very well make or break me in my professor's eyes, either it's brilliant or I too the grotesque too far. Oh, and did I mention I have a dirty mouth. Bless my poem, lets hope it gets the grade I'm aiming for.

The Artist Mourns his Mary Jane

The record player spins the music beautifully, the rasp

perforating the choking parlor air, the wrenching cackle

a ghost among beating hearts. He sing’s softly.

Baby it’s been so long, that even the roses’ hips

are turning me on. Baby it’s been so long.

I’m up real close now, baby, can you hear

me? Hear these words: This man was built to fuck

and lie then take what’s done to mossy grave

for worms and dirt to be my judge. But cunt,

you gulped the blood I fed, you dirty thing. You

let those creatures, hooves and black wings

create her, let her damned head fall from your legs

and wail. Mother of our child, you’re just a body, rotting

now, alone. While I, the one they curse, will watch your

delicate mouth yawn, your face awakening in her crib.

How can I forgive you that?

**Not only am I mildly concerned I'm borderline plagiarizing, maybe (I include song lyrics) But I also swear, a, um, a bit....If this becomes an issue, I'm reverting back to the prompt he wrote for the basis of the poem, which, in my head, necessitates both fuck and cunt. Or at least I'm a solid percent sure that it does. 

...

well this is the last of it for me today. I'm beat and ready for sleep. :)