Washed Up Dirt Rat Poem by Jacob Underwood

wire strains from your eyes with made up sea crashed idols.
as you beat your fingers against anything you can each touch like blasted cymbals.
as you pick your throat with a voice so harsh and demanding to make even drowned noodles -
go stiff. with you tormenting everyone else with a gopher-Ish sickly sonata.

a wannabe guitarist failed years even with the reminders of why in symbols.
with your drought covered throat screaming at everyone else that they're numskulls.
acting like a god so that everyone serves you like all they are to you are mortals.
you're just the same just with a tinge of causing a monsoon of melodrama.

as the hopes and dreams in you that some people have are just a phantasma.
shaming the lovers shaming the criers and shaming the crystals.
because you are so above it so much more effective than other people's devils.
You just garble and berate, leaving the people you need in
huddles.

using your guitar as a place of pride even though you'll just leave it in pebbles.
never using it just bragging about how you could be in
magazines or journals.
in reality your just BuzzFeed quality your voice belongs in the stables.
with the rest of garbage and muck you now taste like rotten ciabatta.