I can feel my vision twitch
as my reality shifts.
Something changes;
no more paroxysms
or fits of passion or love.
It moves slowly and
deliberately like an ass,
being eaten by flies
and whipped for no
other reason than to
satiate the depravity
of the whipper, for
he knows that no matter
what he does, the ass
will not go any faster.
Composed 01/28/14
Author’s Comment: Trying to compose shorter poems. Sometimes, frustration can prove helpful in creative endeavors.
Two Second Street 