killing life

minor and trivial complaints,
constantly heard,
can drive a saint mad,
let alone a common good
old boy.
and worse, those who do it
to us
are hardly aware,
unless finally told
and even finally told
they can’t believe,
and so nothing leads
anywhere
and it’s just another day
wasted,
kicked in the ass,
mutilated
while the Buddha
sits in the corner
smiling.