Why do I do it?

I don’t do it for you , so your thoughts can rest easy

as you nod in your pleasant agreement

while you sip on your drink , peculiar and queasy

at my anticipated long due achievement

I don’t do it so that you , in your tuxedo blouse

can regale us about your refinement

as you so easily fling those opinions espoused

by explaining your rules of assignment

I don’t do it for now , so that riches may come

so the house in the suburbs is purchased

I do it for later , when my years and then some

have passed into dust and resurfaced

Why do you claim theories about such a life

while you queue in the night for your ticket

knowing nothing of the blood drip from the end of the knife

and the verbiage cut free from the thicket

Do you count all my long dark hours lost of sleep

while the whirlpool of thoughts overwhelms me

for you to appear around corners to peep

so you can issue your words to befriend me

I know you so love to guffaw at the thought

of reviewing the work I present

before stringing together words , perfect and taut

and return to the life you resent

You call me over to say you love what I do

You lean your head down and grin

You say what a talent , tell me you knew I’d come through

and tell others you knew that I’d win

Well I don’t do it for you , I do it for me

it’s the only way I know how to

make sense of the mess , and get myself free

an’ point the finger at those you kowtow to