yours is a vengeful god
too old for some benevolent dictating
even on good days,
beard scratchy like steel wool and
wishing it all went down
easier.
he's
raising hailstorms in
little-known third world nations
with each cold and
stubbed toe.
came home friday night hammered,
and with a whole new point of view,
he said:
"i don't wanna forgive you
not because it's hard
(it's not)
it's so **** easy it's
a cheap trick."
flicked the cig at the ashtray
and missed. he
stopped loving you just like that
on a day that smelled like gasoline,
while in the midwest the droughts went
on, and on,
decided that what he gives is
what he wants to take.