Art Moses

Angered when
told to be patient,
I rip the net of human affections
which unthreads part of the
fabric of the world.

Old, in a reckless passion of
solitude I end my caring,
destroying a wall and window.
I grow weary of begging
to give things away.

"If they want
my contributions,
at least they can come
on their own to get them,"
I say. But they don't.