Over it
Stuck,
you don't give a ****
I clean,
I sweep
You don't see
You throw things at me
I must have a target that says give me,
I want things
Don't mind my feelings
Empty is my theme
Broken is my show
I always wanted an encore
I hope broad shoulders is all that and more
******* I'm going *******
Hope you find happiness in a *****
And yes I'm tired of endless *******
So please!
Leave me alone so I can sleep

ok, now I get that it's all Fake News,
Like how Bob Mueller got a three-star General
on his knees licking boots,
And it seems weird Heil Trump's
been like a late August 1945 Adolph
been losing it,
rescinding public apologies
again questioning the
birthplace of Obama
reacting these last two days
to all the pressures building
**** it, we all know he knew. He is gonna be the
end of this drama. ****, he tried to persuade Comey
to end the investigation into Flynn. I was born at night, just not last night.
This is gonna be pretty as when Flynn
exited the courthouse
and was serenaded with the
same song he led at the convention against Hillary!  
Lock (him) up!  Lock (him) up!!!
I love to see a hypocrite get (his) due!

A living skin, a skein of green briars
where a half-hinged door is wagged by the wind

Good-natured god, decay’s stigmata-stained spires
nettles paint the stairs splotch patterned, olive skinned

Glass window shards grab a slip of silk curtain
pick-pocket beetles engrave brute luck broadside

Chimney thrushes cabined in ash are certain
cynicism’s growing sums are rectified

Blue jays opine time’s cuckoo clock mocking
worms ply enormous copses, scrawl casts of clay

Autumn gusts and rains whirl detritus stocking
flung colors Pollocked, clutter’s chaos array

Hours dissolve the acorns and soft seeds scatter
as grasses grown tall have turned light yellow

architecture’s flourishes are picked off
crumbled valuables filched and turned to dirt

tumult’s passages dug the driveway’s trough
carrion feeders pull black quills from their shirt

slugs smear a rainbow trail and mice scurry
collapsed walls fall to the slush of leaf slurry

When can I sleep?
When the sun comes up.
When can I rest?
When the stars fade out.
When can I relax?
When the world starts again.

You make me want to sip white wine
In the dim light
Listening to Frank Sinatra

Graceful dancing
Fainted laughing
The old sound of the victrola

I’m not good enough
That spoiled egg out of the bunch

Joy left me
Sin slept in my bed to much

Too far gone
Pushed off the path

Lost a sense of direction
Can’t find my way back

Faith, dislocated
Broken fingers can’t hold a bible

To embarrass to come to you
I’m not running

How could I face you
Prayer, foreign language

This prayer is my last
If it goes unanswered.....