No chance to sit and write poems
the day soldiers on
a million little nothings
occupy my time
if it's not the bills it's the dishes
a prayer on my knees
to the ***** floor
what god is this who rests
in the ruins?

I juggle, no, not a metaphor
I juggle 3 rubber *****
red, blue, yellow, primary colors
focus my mind
one can't juggle with a head full of detritus
I'm a joke, a clown
the tear painted under my eye
a mockery of myself
drop the ***** and start singing
I'm an angel
my voice a jewel
cutting through the emptiness