Grocery

I’m trying to get it all
Out and it burns like

Fucking hell, and I’m
So pissed off and all

There is to me is what
Silence I can’t conquer

I’m guilty of throwing
Drinks at it, keying its

Car, saying fuck you
Here’s my ass to kiss

Here’s my tongue to
Split, my body to butterfly

I don’t have any mother
Fucking poems, I can’t

Write because it doesn’t
Really count, does it

The time I spend chasing
The cat that got out, the

Time it spends trying to
Get back to the shelter

Man made in ignorance.
Maybe I am not meant

For your nature, maybe I’m
A humble, sprawling beast

Maybe I eat up the produce
Before it ripes, maybe that’s

All that matters in loving any-
Thing, that it has time to

Brown before the hunger
Covets the starch.