I am.

I write another stanza of this poem every other week. I have a love/hate relationship with this poem and I fear that it will never be complete.

I am a struggle underneath a cup of tea.
I am in a fight with a coaster
and a battle to dirty the glass coffee table.
Let me be your annoyance,
let me be your desire to wipe me clean of my sins.

I am listening to the friction of a bed with loose railings.
Bumping against the wall,
closing the gap as her squeaky clean appearance falls underneath the bed.
Let me be your annoyance,
let me be the one who keeps you up at night.

I am a copy machine imitating art on pastel xerox paper.
Creating duplicates of the original.
Clones with wasted ink that will be seen and stuffed away in backpacks and desks.
Let me be your annoyance,
let me quietly make copies of a message that will be ignored and thrown away.

I am the constant ebb and flow of an ocean's tide
Highs and lows, I have some things to hide.
As the full moon mysteriously sets forth these waves,
I'll crash beneath the rocks and pave another way.
Let me be your annoyance,
let me soothe you with the harsh sounds of the sea.