Grapevine

This morning I started to hate myself again.

The grapevine outside the window coats the bedroom and takes all the sunlight for itself.
Even my plants on the window sill--right on the sill--are withering in the shadow of the grapevine.
Damned darkness.
Me versus grapes.
I'll pour melted vaseline over the leaves.
Burn the vines with a hundred lit cigarettes.
If I piss on the trunk every night while the landlord sleeps the roots will die.

Pretend you can be happy by letting in the sunshine.
It might not be dark in the room but in your heart.
What vine do you kill then?