Sep 05, 2005 02:38
If I take the situation,
in my mind,
and beat it like a rented mule or perhaps a dead horse,
if I twist it, punch it, mutilate the hell out of it,
if I can stomp on it, squint at it,
view it from the distance of two times (perhaps three or four) a hop, skip and a jump,
if there's any way of breaking it,
and putting it back together again after judging it, hating it,
being fully against it,
than it's possible (though not probable) that I may find the smallest amount,
a smidgen if you will,
of acceptance.
Don't count on it though.
poem,
upset