America 2016

A found poem; adapted fromĀ America by Allen Ginsberg
America I've given you all two dollars and twenty seven cents
Human war? Go fuck yourself
I can't stand your libraries full of tears
I don't feel good, your machinery is too much for me.
Don't bother me. I won't write my poem till I'm sick of your insane 
      demands.
I'm trying to settle this argument
my obsession made me want to be a saint.
When will you be angelic?
I'm in my right mind. My own mind.
Will you look at yourself
when will you be worthy?

-A December 5, 2016