#1. Can’t I See What I’m Doing To Me?

When the words don’t come home
I will not be that overprotective
Reproducer of syllables who
Goes in a frenzy, calls cops,
Prays, appeals, pleads with
A quiet Universe to please
Give them one more chance
With a thesaurus and they’ll be
Such a better poet when in the door
They come scampering nonchalantly in like
NOTHING. EVER. HAPPENED and here I was
Worried sick that I’d never have anything to say.

The very nerve of words today.
Where do they think they live, anyway?