The Voice

Nobody reads you
You know
Said the Voice.

It’s not as if
You have anything to say.
Perhaps shelling peas
Is better work for you.
Or sorting socks.

The Voice never leaves.
It is a steady accomplice
To my malefactor life.

Again?
The Voice whines.
For God’s sake
Stop wasting paper!
Think of all the trees
Your “poetry” murders.

I hang my head in shame
Allowing
The Voice
To conclude its
Daily indictment.

If I were made to
Read your crap
I’d plead and beg
Merciful God
To end my grinding misery.

Better yet
Said the Voice
Let’s put your
Reams of poems
In a basket in the bathroom
And save on all the
Toilet paper we buy every week.

I fold my hands
Squeezing my eyes
Hard shut.

Very well
Said the Voice
You cannot write
What you cannot see.

But the Voice does not understand.

That is precisely
What I do.