poem is never finished, only abandoned. ~Paul Valťry
Another plate crashes to the floor
Another cup that narrowly missed
It seems as though my aim has gotten poor.
While your fist is trapped in the wall
A phone whizzes by your face
All for nothing, because you have no balls.
A curtain ignited, a gallon of water poured
A chair thrown across the room
Donít worry, bastard, Iím keeping score.
A window shatters, a table smashed
Cushion ripped to shreds, a pillow ripped
Your favorite shirt? Yeah, itís now trashed.
Brakes tampered with, sugar in the tank
I wouldnít try to drive, just a fair warning
Perhaps you should walk, no need for you to thank me.
Hair pulled, a cheek smacked
Have you ever thought
Of getting off your ass?
Clothes tossed out into the muddy yard
Bags of your special stash slowly going down the toilet
Hmph, did you not think I could throw that far?
Papers torn, notebooks destroyed
My priceless hierlooms from my mother
Barely missed the back of your growing boy..
What are you, a man?
Donít make me fucking laugh
You canít even throw properly
And you run like a sissy ass.
Get off my property, you bag of shit
Or the cops will come and drag you away
And I will tell them just who you hit.
Donít even look at me that way, donít begin to smirk
I know how to use a gun, and the back yard is big enough
To hide your body and my growing mirth.
Go ahead and turn your back, so stupid and brave
Do you truly think I donít have the guts
To send you to an early grave?
Better yet, let me cut you open
And pour salt in the wounds
Then bind you with alcohol swabs
And throw you to the coons.