I tried.
I wanted to write something
Something with
staying power.

Instead, I had to 
this tiny text box
on my computer 
that only allows me
to see
a few lines at a time.

And, believe me,
I’ve got an awful lot
to say. Or write.


Am I the only one
pissed at the machines?
Azimov had it right–
they should serve man
and never harm him.

But this computer 
is raising my blood pressure
and filling me with an
urge to kill.

Kill. Kill. Kill the machines!

Oh well.
Let’s be realistic.
It’s not like I have anything
to say.

And who the hell
reads poetry,
for God’s sake?

Nobody, right?!?!

I need to chill.
I’m going to put my
ear buds in
and listen to
the new Death Grips album.

And maybe take a few swallows
from the tiny bottle
I hide in my desk.