I've Got Nothing On Bukowski

I made my mother cry tonight
But I suppose her emotions rolled
Down her face with the tears
And dried upon her cheeks
I’m a failure as a son and a brother
Probably also all those other relations
I hope I never have kids
I briefly considered consulting
A quick fix to my problems
Decided against it
Again
I can’t play guitar or bass
It’s too late for that
I can’t play violin
I don’t know how
My leg is shaking at 200 bpm
This is a story nothing else
Because real poems rhyme
I can’t love it scares people
I can’t dislike it hurts people
I won’t hate it hurts me
I can like but what’s the use
My leg sped up slowed down sped up again
My toes are numb
It’s been going for 15 minutes now
But back to my story
I tried watching TV
But everything is stupid when you are
So everything was stupid
I tried reading
But everything is sad when you are
Or when it’s Stephen King
So I came here and wrote
And wrote
And my leg shook at varying tempos
And my toes went numb
And I used imperfect grammar
And people upstairs conversed
My thigh is numb now
My muscles gave up
Now my whole leg is somewhere I’m not
It wants to stay there but I must walk
A few steps to my bed then the rest of me can sleep
I can dream of doing this for a living
And not starving
Unrealistic but realism is long gone
Good riddance