How the lovely people treat me at my lovely work.

a poem to express my annoyance.









They break

Open minded and somewhat slow.We are the eternal rag tag crew, off to the side…
Swallowing our pride and taking the random punch to the face.Then we write shitty little poems about the experience.
We are grown men and women pathetically holding on to youth.
We are grown and treated like children by our equals and betters.There is no respecting this diseased outfit of strangers, weirdo’s and losers.
But I am sick of laying my pride, heart and soul at your feet to trample upon.And although my people live poorly and enjoy the stranger aspects of life we love more fiercely than you could even begin to understand.
You old women and oppressive degree holders.
You haters of music art and poetry.
I hope your Hell is well lit.
And I hope you are given a mirror to watch yourself burn.