Failure Donor

Finally
there is a use
for my excuses.
I have come
to the voting booth
carrying a pencil
itching
to write my name.

I have stood
on dissolving
milk crates,
preaching the
end of my time,
using my
wealth of knowledge
concerning myself
to pinpoint
my familiar demise.

The fishbowl
is full of chairs.
I have sat in mine.
I have flushed
the system free
of error and toll.
I have filled
the fishbowl
with drugs
and dirty water,
I am a warm host,
I invite all the parasites
to come and play.

I watch as it empties
into a basin
laid at my feet.

What's next is what's left.
Struggle succumbs to sweat.
Nothing I do helps
so I am passing it on,
paying it forward,
until this fishbowl
is clear and bereft.