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