AND VIOLETS ARE BLUE

I am tired of submitting to journals,

society, men, God,

tired of watching my dog cower

after pissing on the floor.

I am his God after all.

And he is tired of submitting to me.

We are all gods here

ambushed in the center of the infinite

wooden babushka doll,

clawing and crawling and cussing

and singing

all praises,

all hail the Great Babushka.

I submit now in a wooden container,

miming and suffocating and cowering

with movement like a simple puppet.

I bring you clichés now.

I bring you red roses

and blue violets.

I piss on your floor.