wishes of a pessimist.

I express
my irrational anger
with unpopular poetry.
and something deep within me
isnt enthusiastic
about the way of individuals.
so drastic
and plastic
and overall ; the image of a closed door.
something deep within me,
perhaps closer to the surface
loathes the current wide spread of vanity.
oh goodness gracious.
oh silenced humanity.
oh but could I have, in my jumble of life:
a sea of knowledge
and ocean of creativity
dry fields
cold nights
 rainy days
starry skies
with much nature
and little persons.
I`l have stolen cigaritts
and stolen delights.
I am a slimy repulsive creature
with so little virtue, or flatterable features
 maybe a book or two
a chance at a few words
and the overbearingness
of you`r arms
my life has no theme.
my poems have no theme
I only mumble and babel
on how fat I could get
how rude I could seem
how swell I could sing
if i`d ever dare to flee.
slowly
and slowly
hatred grows within me.
com in like liquid poetry.
uncoil my tragedy.
almost pathologically.
I have a necessity
for the goodness of the earth
and you`r hair caressing it`r rebelling dry grass.