Urinating on the Ficus

Like a man waiting for the beautiful beast inside him

to come thundering out of the forest he doesn’t realize

he’s concealed that beast in,

in order to protect his spirit from his jealous body

which is sick of being lead by wild things it can’t contain,

I wish I hadn’t learned that

there comes a point in ones study of anything

when the symbol becomes predictably transformative,

growth and surprise begin to lose their luster,

and what can be learned from ceases to move

because its moving,

only you have no way of knowing what that thing is,

since nothing you can think of rejects comparison,

and so its easier to admit your logic is wrong

than to accept the fact that nothing ever changes,

when in fact both are forms of noise you create

to keep yourself from hearing you are lonely.

There comes a point when learning no longer feels fun,

when you’re that guy at Jen’s party pissing jokes

nobody thinks are funny,

that Silent Tyler in the corner of the living room

urinating on the ficus by the electrical outlet,

and watching it spark.