Spontaneous 10:23 love poem about nothing

It is tiresome many days
Just to find the
Courage to
Flick a piece of dead skin
From your hand
to the ground

It seems the walk from the bathroom
To the kitchen is to travel through a
Desert of vacant wars and last place
Gods

The newspapers are written in
incomprehensible tongues

The cars are rolling by on
turpentine

And you regurgitate the same line
over and over and over again

Dreaming of far off lands
and bi-polar pets

There are always good things
I tell myself
It just takes more looking around
More doorstops, more patience

Everyone is a victim of something
Of someone
We've all been brutalized
We've all seen the ugliness
Of loves gatekeeper

We have all raked the calanders
Off the walls
And cursed the stockings of time

Every day is a choice to say
Yes to this thing

To kick something in the balls
To stroke the fur of an
Amazing beauty, a mountain

To forestall
The Ink from draining your
Veins dry

To take all these cliches
And do something about
Them

"Do not worry
about tomorrow
for tomorrow
will worry about itself.
Each day has enough
trouble of its own"

Sayeth the good book
They really oughta teach
That thing in counseling class

Theres something to it
Even if theres nothing

To this.