Ouch, sayeth I

As sinews disrupt

Their femured rest

To lie astride the knob.

Where once my leg

Did show spritely measure

Now it does lie askew

Rent for rent’s sake.

Principled currency have I

Yet usurious interest

Abandons my very soul

To restless piscine slumber,

To don wearied galoshes

Of most compressed clay.

Stir not thy ire

Brooklyn-ed Vincent

Thy due is nigh

As the night is dewed

I would not lie now

Lest I should lie forever,

A cornerstone of commerce,

Tenement to history.

Vis’t me but anon

And thy dower is done;

Do me in here

And you’ll none, I fear.

(Image is property of owner and is used here without permission, so please don’t hurt me.)