A Grievance Adressed: (or O!godithinkihatehim)

2009-11-30 | 11:14 p.m.

he giggles and grins
at my sins,
where i've been,
and it makes me so very tired.
his incompetence,
uselessness,
wasted words,
are unrivaled to uninspire.
so cold, am i!
with fingers bitten to the core-
for reasons few,
then more once i am through that door;
my landscape is bleak and my bloods are taciturn...
chins up, those little bloods,
so stern!
once i had to try
to come back to life...
but he saw me and swallowed me whole
in his pit i hide
survived for his pride
till i dig
a hole through his soul.
so all day!
i am plagued
with his failures
so at night!
i dream of my own.
and my bloods
cry for blood,
and they rally
to whittle their knives
with my bones.

he don't know! that i know,
that his treason
of reason,
is the field on which he fights.

and i'll boil this soil,
put fire to its oil,
set the whole
goddamned ground alight.

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