day after Christmas
You tore the shit down off the walls and
Broke the window and
held the door shut while I tried to get out.
You said I would listen and I said I wouldn’t,
Not for the tenth time.
You’re a train that jumped the track.
I shouldn’t have left that pebble.
I could give you something to get really mad about.
You cry and I don’t.
I don’t have tears, I’m hot inside and
I don’t know how to bridge this gap.
You’re stuck in my endless rinse cycle.
You resent me for things that happened before I was born.
I pushed you and you pushed me back
Down, over, through.
I park at the old college by our house and there’s no one but a security guard to buzz by and wonder about me.
He doesn’t ask and if he did I don’t know what I’d say.
Probably that I’ve been drowning for a long time.
Probably that after coming four times last night you still woke up irrational.
I thought I could appease you enough to slide by but I must have left you drained.
You tell me that this is how to live a life.
You tell me to be good. I want to scream and don’t. I want to tell you to go fuck yourself and do. You put a big dent in the copper bowl I never cook with because I love it too much to get it dirty.
Now we’re all dirty and I have to wade back through the wreckage to rescue the dog.