How am I supposed to write under conditions like these? <br />Barreling motorcar roar through my alley, please. <br />Wake me, shake me from my world nocturne <br />Turn me, burn me; dump me in my urn. <br />Scatter me onto the earth of a continent never traveled, <br />Where barefoot folk can carry me and grind me into the gravel. <br />There will be no more roaring motorcars, no more pens and barrels. <br />No more off-key motherfuckers singing Christmas carols... <br />I have seen my world of life and strife, rapture, indifference and peril. <br />Your world will thank me when I am gone, and pray that I was sterile.<br /><br />Rev. Dr. A. Jacob Hassler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-pen-is-a-piece-of-shit/
