he is friendly
but he could
be worse
short of
being abusive
curt and terse
he follows me
with a pitchfork
in his hand
he rides a hearse
he is my doctor
he is my nurse
sometimes i
really wonder
if he is the one
who creates
my verse
my pathos
my poetic
pandemonium
my pangs
my libidinous
lust ashes to
ashes he
whispers
in my ears
i will
ultimately
quench
your thirst
you mortal
man a speck
of dust
physically
i corrode and rust
in god we trust
the bubble burst
