I am but a tiresome stream of words
Unfit for the earth
In limbo and looping
Through the mayhem of it all

Too delicate
I despair without heart
Wheels spinning in the mud
And slathering the world
In my soft-hearted troubles

Useless
Determined yet hollow
The filth travels high
In its meaningless and well-known arc

Familiar
To all poor sons and daughters
Who are doomed
To wallow among verses
Inflamed forevermore