Curse the eyes that won’t look past
Curse the ears that refuse to hear your silence
Curse the heart
And the brain
Stuck on impossibility
Causing themselves such pain
Curse the lack of refrain
Curse myself
For cursing you
With this sorry ***
Poor me
Curse fest
And curse this curse fest too

Why can’t I write about snow
Or trees?
Find passion in what I’m surrounded with
Whatever it be?
Nature
So many poets have done it
Successfully
Not me
I can’t find passion writing about a tree
As beautiful and magestic as they be
Even the blade of grass
Does it’s thing regally
Standing up, though trod upon
Cut down every week
That blade of grass
Exists defiantly
Hey!  There it is!
The poetry

I beg like a ***
For a token or dime
I spend all of my time
On this lonely street
Freezing to death
While you hoard the heat
And just like the typical
One who drives by
You avoid my eye
So you don’t have to see
The hungry
Me
There’s thousands of bums on the street
And you can’t give them all a thing to eat
Least of all

Me

Cracks
Like spiderwebs
Filters
Really
Of what we allow ourselves to see
Living inside the bowl
Pretending to be free
I stare at this one way screen
Wondering if you’re watching me
Building webs
Diligently

I feel drained
Holes on the bottom
A mere drop
Teeny weeny
But that is just this moment
Hopefully
I got a lot of *****
Left in me
You punk

I’ve touched your soul
With my ***** mind
Smeared it all over
With jelly and juice
(And a barbecue dressing of some kind)
Put the thought of you to intimate use
(Repeatedly)
Whispered into your ear
Breathlessly
I’ve presented you with
The longest mental striptease
Anyone’s ever seen
And no matter how much mud I sling
There you sit
Soul pristine

You beautiful wuss
Imperfect and faulted you be
Pretending to ignore me
All publicly
But you and I both know
You come to see
Invisibly
Your superpower
In this realm
Andre the Mighty!
Is invisibility
Which happens to be
A handicap for me