It was something I carried everywhere

It is something I carry everywhere

A kind of displacement from the world

A manufactured loneliness despite of you

A flick of anger would precipitate it

A manicured sense of injustice

Like a golf course blown by a storm

I don’t know what to do with it

Or what good can come out of it

If any

I can’t deal with people blaming me

For something I did do

I want to go to her house

And drink her cunt dry