The Brunt of My Malice

You have not seen the brunt of my Malice
You have not felt the blunt of my Mace.
Over your ignorant, snickering face.

I am so tired.
So very tired.

And it all goes round and round,
Those damn bus wheels.
Running me over.
And over.
And over.

Wake up sweating from life so vivid.
Wake into a blur.
Impressionistic canvas.
Oil smears for faces.

Watch me melt.
Watch me run down the canvas of your mind.
I'm just riding gravity.
Straight into the ground.
As quickly as it will take me.

Soaking me up.
Up.
Up.
Up.

Down.
Down.
Down.
Into the earth.
Where I belong.