Don't Worry

Don't worry, I'm not offended.
I'm just living in an empty bucket
and hearing echoes, dreadful echoes,
feeling the vibration but not the good
of metallic pings,
Gulping water just to get
All these throat-clutching pills
Down each morning.

I write sometimes just to hear
What I think sounds good
To my lazy tortured ear,
Though at the time it doesn't sound well,
And maybe I just want to see how long
It takes a penny to fail (oh how it falls!)
Or how far the teeter-totter pail will fall
(oh what a pall!)
Into that insensate bottom of the well
Where I live.

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