Can't Sleep.

61*

The ghost of once is loitering
stalking the remnants of happiness
across the lines of your faceplace.

I am sleeping
with your mother
in the nighttime of your would’ve could’ve world.

Have you considered
a career in
show business
modeling surprised facial expressions?

So high,
is the trash piled on your lawn
that your children think it’s
Playskool.

I am pursuing a career
in chartering yachts on the seas of
your floppy droppings and misguiding rant squirtings.

We cannot chew the fat
or eat the bacon
because all the bacon was consumed by your obese girlfriend

Once I planted a patch of daffodils,
but you urinated in my miracle-grow
and now they are dandelions

I am commandeering your boat now
You have been relieved of command
And also, your scribblings, which I have taken and conflagrated.