Pissing Calvin

In shades of joy, a world is spun,
Where hopes and dreams and love are one,
A child laughs, a tiger roars,
Through Hobbes, imagination soars.

In panels drawn, his world takes flight,
Of Spaceman Spiff, and sheer delight,
But in the shadows, figures stand,
Misshapen by irreverent hands.

Now in adulthood, life turns mean,
Ripped raw of its protective sheen,
Seems wonder’s lost, without a trace,
As Calvin pisses on your face.

Pissing Calvin snuffs the light,
He pisses on the left and right,
But he won’t piss on Grandpa Joe,
(He pisses on himself, you know.)

And so he pisses through the gloom,
When he’s not shooting up a room,
In daydreams, seems he never learned,
His comic books will soon be burned.