They just want to be together.
They desperately attempt form a single word.
But no, their love is thrown away as if it were a 6th grade research paper.
Grammar Nazis reject their love,
And there it lies like a rose trampled on the ground.
Still, I have hope.
I have alot of hope.
"A" and "Lot" deserve to be together.
We see them everyday, and they need each other.
They need each other alot.
How dare this child look at me with such disgust.
His insolence should be punished.
He should be strung up,
Attached to a horse
And driven through the city in shame.
How dare this pubescent squirt be angry.
He has no reason to be.
I am simply doing what I am supposed to do.
How dare this post-Pampers maggot accuse me of not listening.
After all, he is just a child.
I am the adult here.
Today, work was hard. I work with children on a regular basis, and I always find myself aging. Saying things that I never thought I would need to say ("Because I said so.")
Sometimes, it just makes me feel inadequate, but maybe that's how I'm supposed to feel.
Slap the keyboard. Repeat in stanzas.
That Lightning Bolt is killing me.
It sits there in the top right corner right next to my home,
Staring at me while I write.
"Hey you... I see you're writing a poem.
"Do you think a lot of people will read it?"
What I have to say is,
"I hope so."
But then I chastise myself.
I don't write for them!
I write for me!
I rubbed you down the spine.
Your skin felt warm to the touch.
I cracked you open and let your scent run.
To me, that delicious scent is life.
It fills my lungs, allows me to be inspired.
It reminds me of younger days.
Days when the fairy tales would overtake me.
Of gleaming blades in the thousands.
Of a cauldron bubbling green.
Of dragons and horses across the land.
Thank you, my Escape.
Thank you, old Friend.
All perfectly fine things to do.
But really, I'm just sitting in the shower.
AN EXPLOSIVE NATURE.
UNWILLING TO ALLOW FOR RATIONAL THOUGHT.
It remains hidden.
Bubbling under the surface.
Each small detail then annoys you.
Like a mine cart going down hill,
Then you.... RELEASE.
EVERY PORTION OF YOUR BODY IS LIKE AN IRON HEATED TO A BRIGHT ORANGE.
YOUR FIST IS BALLED AND YOU JUST NEED TO EXERT EVERY OUNCE OF FRUSTRATION.
YOU YELL AND SCREAM WITH FACE CONTORTIONS WORTHY OF HELL BOUND SOULS.
You bite your tongue.
Remind yourself to calm down.
Save that rage for another day.
But it's still there. Bubbling. Waiting.
It will consume you eventually.