What Do You Do

Sleep eludes me Women, kids, money, dreams, problems Cycle in and out Numb to the present I can't do anything about Run from here to there Every place becomes intolerable Where will I rest my head When there's no there there And I'm stuck Well I'm not. It's just Birds bless this morning With sweet song All I want to listen too River roaring softly Grass growing silently Under goose turds Unavoidable but not intolerable Life's littered with them Thoughts fly higher, please What do you do Write another f___g poem About a swollen river And the full throated song Of the universe I'm hard of hearing Lately Try as I might I can't make it sing The torment away It could, it can It doesn't Just poops on the lawn If everyone would just stop Sh____ing everywhere Morpheus could massage my mind With delicious dreams To melt the edges off Jagged shards Of our own broken souls That no matter when, where, why, or how We broke. Not war. Not hell. Not the universe. We broke ourselves, and keep cutting our hearts On the serrated, spikey, pokey, pointy, sharp Front we put up for protection What do you f____g do Plead with the GD Universe to f___g heal your soul Find some f___ing therapy So birds can bless you in the morning So you can hear The soft roaring river Through your open window And you can listen To the full throated f___g song of the universe That's what you do