Unruly beast, domesticated in lethargic ways,
Tears at my flesh as I grip in control.
Within moments, my grip will stray,
And purpose will be lost.
Shadows behind fat dirty glass
Shackle me with iron masses of diction.

Right in front of you I say this,
And in seconds I tumble to the dirt.
Ground welcomes my fall with a gift of pain—
Thanks, already have some.
Spectators sigh in response,
“Awe, damn, weak fool!”
And exchange greens.
Tears push walls of grime to see
Mother, father and son,
All middle fingers as one.

In seconds I look over the replay,
Jog the past, present and future with handy controls.
“yup, that’s where I lost it,” I pronounce,
and fix the problem.
Soon I mount the beast again,
And meet a different, but similar doom.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
Soon I’ll tire this bull.

Contact: JohSha17@Evergreen.edu