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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required There he sits that monstrous hypocrite. There he dwells as I wash these dishes, his dishes. There he slouches, watching his games, his news, his crap. I try and think to dream past my own tragedy. I feel my hands burn and bleed from the soap n water. I turn my back and look out to the horizon past the desolation of this boulevard. I hear her breathing, I feel her borrowing stare. Her hate in soft tones of hollow love. I do my best, I make what I can, she has all I dare, she knows not for my sacrifice, my dedication to her. So I set n watch my flicks, drain this beer till it’s warm rancid piss. ”Get me another one dear” with a shout and a sneer as I make her do all the work for I pay for the food around here. There he goes again, Thinking Im his puppet I need to stop n fetch like a beaten dog to call. I Yell back, “Get it your own damn self!” “Don't you see Im washing these filthy dishes you left last week as well as watching out for our boys as they play!” How dare she, I have shown her whose boss a thousands of times. How dare you not bring me a beer you fat steer. Before I can think even to react to brace for the impact that bony fist is driven into my back, pain erupts flaring a mark to add to the last. “Look dear! I am the one you need to fear your slick, uppity lip is lost and will bring my wrath, I own this house this couch that beer. You best not forget that.” Yes, I cry you are right my love my beloved one you are the man the master of this home. I forgot myself. Here is your beer, sit and enjoy. Ohhhh? are those the kids, almost here n from their roam? Take care they don’t see your mask slip, I think but not intone. But say, “Take your beer to drink, sit n watch your flick. Sorry, I feel a little sick.” That's better, you remembered your place, I run the show, I pay for all this place, this so-called home, your fancy shoes, your shopping sprees. Now, leave me alone, leave be be, I have my shows to see. I turn and grab a dish, I warm the luke water as I start to wish for a life free of hurt and heartache, and suffering, pinching pennies to just buy your steak. Hah! My clothes are last years, who am I fooling they are just rags and my shoes are little more than lost souls. I look out into the waste, a broken industry of a fallen nation, lost to greed, the formation of a wasteful world, a Wasteland of Man gone mad and berserk. His final folly! A wasteland of more than broken cities or a deserts on the march, a wasteland of iron, a forgotten Eden of earth. A product of their ignorance or intellect. I stand and squint to see my little lads and lasses running to n fro, ready to come in, as the night begins to grow. Ready for home… Here n there trash blows in the wind, and down the streets the flickering neon comes to zombie life struggling not to die. The streets are emptied of the mechanical behemoths that travel from day into night. My eyes go distant, deep into the thousand miles of yesterday. I remember all as it was once bright n gay. Of love. That filled this tiny house once, Now all there remains are the dead skeletons of love, castings of wrappers of a passion burnt to dust. A union never meant to be and all my dreams born to rust. I snap back to reality, to this the horror of life, how I long to be free...
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