Can of Frustration

I hold in my grasping hands
an aluminum can

of precious processed beans

A nutritious and delicious source

of fiber and protein

vacuumed sealed

to prevent outside contamination

The proper device of entry
is now required
to penetrate this stubborn 

protective container

I have the tool, but not the power
for it seems the electric current is out

(Serves me right for not paying the bill)

No old school

manual opener to be found

in my kitchen junk drawer

of assorted relics

Feeling substance deprived

frustration gets the best of me
as I fastball fire

the uncooperative can
into the innocent wall

Out of sheer spite
and the forces
of acceleration repulsion
the bastard projectile beans
ricochets back
and bops me
in my slow reacting head

Now both parties 
of this needless conflict
are feeling dented
bruised
and unloved

Anger always leaves a lasting mark