mondays are not for reflection

i am the product
of the lower lowerclass
an accidental ejaculation
that sent ripples
of ruin across
every single soul
unfortunate enough
to cross my wake

the rock in your shoe
the itch
right between your
shoulder blades
the eyelash in your eye
a popcorn kernel
wedgeds between two molars

a walking headache
with no relief
a rubber band snapping
between cautious panic
and anxious fear
a piece of litter
marring a scenic view
a constant drip
echoing in the night

i embody ugliness
from my soul outward
a sideshow freak
in a politically correct age
no longer worth
the price of admission
just given piteous looks
then ignored
as i drift back
into the shadows
a beast of woe
sorrow incarnate
leaving muddy hoofprints
as the only sign
i was ever here

random chance
broke a condom
setting off an avalanche
to poison the lives
of all who share
the misfortune of
falling into my gaze
leaving moldy streaks
a faint scent of mildew
and pining verses
wishing i could be
something more
than the nothing branded
upon my broken
knowing all that i am
is never truly enough

a product of the
lower lowerclass
clawing my way up
to just impoverished
begging for loose change
with sloppy misspelled odes
in a child’s scrawl
on tattered poster board
in underpasses
all across the city

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