Woe Is Me Poem by John Zeller

Scratch my eyes out with your politics
Tear at my intestines with your religion
I'm spitting blood are you happy now?

Drag me through the briar's naked
Torture me with false promises and lies
My union is voluntary no need to protest

I will reap what they've sewn, the foolish
I've sewn what they will reap, nothing
I'm getting the better deal, it's just poker

I walk in circles to mill the corn
as my senator plows the fields
The harvest will be momentary brilliance
the seeds of inspiration forever lost

Fall, fall, fall to the ground
in the scorching sun of siesta
Douse me with water
then allow me not to drink

Drag my body across the fields
crucify my tongue to a cactus
The pain is palatable pleasure
the taste is my own frothing blood