On incompetence of idiots, upon entertaining me.

Is there something in the water

Of wherever you come from?

Was your mother, to the harbor

Racing atomic bombs

Whenever embracing you unborn?

Did she ever shyly admit

To one,

Or two—

A good few slips

From which resulted

Some sick hits to your head young?

Am I misunderstanding?

Have we miscommunication?

Should I take that, as carelessness

For not wanting to argue with me?

Or have you just not the required education—

To permit words for such

Even stuttered communication?

Have you saved, sealed, and mailed

For God's Electric Company bills—

Since the attic

You've kept

Remains unused as always is unlit?

What holds your sanity so far from home?

Is it infectious? Contagious?

Air-bourn?

Should I be concerned?

At any rate,

I'll leave you of face, like mind, blank—

As well, my untouched glass of your

'Fore offered water.