Trip On Yourself

Who are you, I yet wonder, And what deep stupidity am I in-- In what terrible hole are we where I pretend I'm civilized and don't mind AT ALL When others are marginally rude And make those crude observations About our shortcomings Or ignore my ugly kisser so wholeheartedly While I dance on the ends of these strings On any early morning like this, Whether I surmise the risk is tempting and rise Or shrink and struggle to re-weld my eyes And go back to sleep before I fall? Ordinarily, things don't work like that at all, Or not for most... Though long, I guess that was a question of sorts, But it also makes various statements Without a line-of-sight past for any of them And spews out accusations that know no rest Nor any bounds while the business of the world Seems to be nothing but Busyness and busted teeth At a very high rate of speed. I wish you'd all just trip on yourselves, With or without your hands in your lap Or your fist in anyone's pocket Or that controversial load of lead You claim is in your pencil instead of in your ass! Everything continues to burn itself up in hell, I hear, And so will you and all of this that I love or fear...