The small-bodied, spotted sparrow
Perched perky on my red wheelbarrow.
All day she spent pecking recklessly at my red paint –
**** that peckish, speckled devil-*****!

My brand new wheelbarrow, chipped!
A certain someone had to pay.
But that scheming little ***** had dipped
As soon as I'd seen the decay.

I cried hard inside my domicile,
Wishing witch's curses on that bird.
I wish she'd die by homicide –
A gruesome death would be preferred.

Departure from a dream shook my body
And as my brain forced re-entry, I raged
After months of senseless self debate
And with certain truths uncovered
After much undue confusion
Recently, I reasonably concluded
That love is one unfeasible delusion.

His parents, so wrinkled they crinkle as they walk
Die a little more before his eyes each dreary day.
The engine of his humble Honda, which propels him to his moderately paying career at Some Office,
Has been producing increasingly strange sounds.
If it breaks down now, he won't be able to afford the vet bills
For the one-legged burden he never actually wanted.

God have mercy on this awful creature
Whose wife does not **** him,
Whose daughter does not love him!

The abominable man, made from supple flesh, brimming with consciousness and autonomy, gifted with a tremendously tender human soul,
Marred only meticulously to allow for contrast and distinction –
This incredible creature, crafted by a most divine creator, was designed, unfortunately,
Mainly to toil in complete vain!

Most nights his subconscious
Gifts him the same dream:
Sirens sounding, feet pounding
Suburban pavement, he's just rounding
The corner and another group of police cars are
Staked out waiting for him,
So he drives straight into the nearest vehicle
And dies blissfully.

The man, upon waking,
Dutifully forgets his dreams,
Careful as he is
Not to be carried away by escapist whimsy –
7 am on a Tuesday, though,
Is an exquisite time
To eat a wheat bagel
Before cutting your lawn.

After tender feelings fade
And hard ones follow suit
I still think about you babe
And I still think you're cute

After we knew for certain
We were done being in love
We closed the final curtains
And pushed it all under the rug

But darling I adore you
Even more now than before
And sweetheart I implore you
To remember what we were

A little despair got in despite my locked doors and windows
Despair buzzing through my apartment like a mosquito
I put on some Jazz and, pressing my ear against the speaker,
Listened until I heard something new:
Tinnitus.

Despair
Bore a sense of smug entitlement
Spread out with an impudent disregard,
Cooling carelessly its hot thighs on my Italian leather

I admit to inching closer,
And tweaking for another taste
It reached its warm hands over
Towards my pallid face

But nobly I pulled back before
The thing made me its prey
Then I sat there waiting for
Despair to go away

A divine creature sweetly dying
(The swan with sprained wings
and bald spots from digging her broken beak into the skin beneath the feathers)
Falls apart no more or less gracefully than a China-made toy.
Her pieces, once disassembled, make tragically languid laps around the surface of the lake.

Arbitrarily I decided that day would be THE day,
The day I stopped loving you.
I decided instead to go floating.
But to be honest with you,
I didn't feel like a swan.
I felt like garbage.

As the day grew to night, I realized it —
No one was coming to pick me up.

Last night I gleaned the bean within a dream
I picked him up, to sneak a closer peek:
Small in stature, held in high esteem,
I ate him with a sense of awe indeed.

He fed me with protein and fiber -
Without complaint or expectation!
I washed him down with apple cider,
And shat out their amalgamation!

Lovely as all beans can be essentially
Teeming with a truly wholesome beauty
He hugged my gut somewhat caressingly
As he made his patient trek right through me.

Such a fine gentleman is rarely seen;
If only we could be that bean!