The Bovine Syndrome Poem by John Weber

When I look at you I am reminded
why I always bail in exasperation,
offended at the vastness of your sloth.
So many excuses for why you can’t bother to care

Naturally, your lack of purpose
bloats your ego to a roaring level of hilarity.
Keep yourself behind, shrug your shoulder,
maybe they’ll give you your very own assistant.

No wonder you’ve been acting almost like
a human again. You’ve broken the code!
Get them expecting less as you drift
unable to keep from sighing as if buried.

Why I can’t find amusement in your
natural metamorphosis is beyond my
fathoming. Trapped, I listen to you bleat away
as you keep acquiring new dolls for your string.