I am not a pleasant person, or even really all that nice.
Instead imagine me as the broken glass you backed over and now are left with a flat tire.
The one black sock in your load of whites, staining the fabric in shame.
That annoying buzzing in your ear that never goes away.
The wall you stubbed your toe on in the middle of the night and screamed, "*******!"
I am not a Sunday morning
or even
a Friday night's lay.
I'm a Monday, 5PM traffic hour just waiting to flip you the bird.
I am the gum on the sidewalk which you happened to step in.
I'm a disaster.
A train wreck.
The red stain on existence, that won't ever come out.
I'll never will be any thing like, a simple smile. Or even a timeless wonder.
I am the darkness that dances in the light.
I am me.
Unpleasant and really not that nice.
This is a poke at myself. Sometimes when you're down, all you can do is make fun of yourself.