I am ridden with confusion

I am ridden with confusion,
Universe.
Yes I am talking to you!
You satisfy my craving,
Of which I am left hating.
And you giggle,
At my suffering.
screw you,
Universe.
Yes I am talking to you!
And now you allow me to see the sun
As if I could have won.
And you redeem yourself
Tricking me into thinking you are done.
Damn it,
Universe.
Yes I am talking to you!

"What more do you want from me?"

Here I am,
Not doing particularly much. I am and nothing, nothing will come. I am standing on a rock, with nothing to say. I am heard, nearly listened to from all around and I have nothing to gift to the empty ears. The empty ears of judgment. The empty ears that will always perceive me differently from I .
So

“What more do you want from me?”

I’ll tell ya.
Oh yeah, I’ll fucking tell ya!
Now sit down!
And Shut-the-fuck-up.
All I want from You,
Is
That You remove
That huge, gregarious,
GAUDY,
Ridiculous,
Obscene
Object, formerly known as “high-definition-television”
From my home.
Oh,
And please get out.

I was walking, and bouncing to the Pixies
When I came home, I had It in my mind to:
Put “I Love You” on my speakers,
Full blast
And
Sit. Or dance.
Mostly dance.
Kick my feet up, ankles
And all.

I was not privileged enough for that to happen, today.
Well,
Not until I called the police and had my home searched.
I called,
I waited,
They came,
Molested my home,
Degraded me in their questions,
Shouted at the silence,
Found nothing.
So why, oh why
Was my door found completely ajar?

And that is the kicker.
There are so many
options,
Ideas,
Theories to choose from.
And none of them
Will save me from that police-full, full-police experience.
The experience of being
Intimately patronized,
With a hand or finger beckoning.

I ventured out of my home

I ventured out of my home
Due to the welcome extra light
that greeted me past five.
I stepped over my threshold
to meet the wonders of the cool breezes
they surrounded me.
I walked towards the swings.
That is what I wanted,
to swing and read,
Read and swing
as the daylight left this atmosphere.
I walked a block, or less
I stomped
I stepped
I crossed the asphalt, formerly known as “the street.”
Towards the swings,
to read and swing
and read and swing.
And suddenly what surrounded me,
But a quiet click, or tap
And my face was painted with water droplets.
I was surrounded.
I basked in it.
Although,
I did realize
That if I were to read
And swing,
Swing
And read
while the rain trickled around,
My book would become soaked
and I would drown.