Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Sonnet 91 Reality Is Not A Theater Script

Reality is not a theater script
When fear and terror stills your fingertips
And a breathing human is torn and ripped
There’s too much stress as the hero lingers
I want it over and the curtain dropped
At last to get the car from the garage
And think about getting the bathroom mopped
Wash my hair and give the cell phone a charge
Reality kills my rescue daydream
I’ve played this scene a dozen times before
A man who needs a psychiatric team
Will reward generosity with war
No more of men other women don’t want
No more of being a pathetic c#nt

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