Awaiting Audience Participation

Hang the rules of poetry, bring in the guillotine Electrocute me in the executioner's chair The death penalty lingers the air It's the event you can plan for There's no firing squad suddenly appearing I cannot help but wonder if the crowd will be jeering My throat hurts still My wrists bruised from each cuff Finally my crimes are deemed 'enough' Let me excuse myself for my words I'm just feeling overwrought Crazily I should have given it all more thought Contain me for I'm angry It's not a feeling that will last Ulysses may advocate I am strapped to the mast Extricate me from this wearisome position In the constant eye of the storm It's not a place where meaningful ideas form I'll rest on this stone pillow Self persecution seems alluring As feeling so sorry for myself has become boring