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you place so much of yourself in plastic and paper and stupid
goddamn boxes and tubs
that if i were to burn it all up
you would just as likely toss me in the fire
as a punishment for my deed
i think you love your things
more than me
when is the last time you listened to me
without turning up the radio
or waiting for me to finish just so
you could lecture me about how to be a "Better Person"
i thought you had to be a good one to know all about that
but i suppose not
if you ever saw this
or anything else i've ever said about you
reaching 85 decibels would be instantaneous
and i would never hear the end
of all my wrongs and ungratefulness and inadequacy
i am sorry
but not really
you are not always right
in fact
that's a pretty rare occasion these days
i love you but you are becoming a ragingbitter old man
and because i couldn't choose my family
is all the more reason
to get away from you