You said there was enough when there wasn’t any left.
I started on this journey, now I can’t turn back.
Why did you do it? You know I’m not to blame.
You push my buttons and make me so angry.
I’ll never understand why you said there’s
sugar when the cupboard is bare.
Listless and upset.
You sit clutching the remote control as if pressing the buttons will make things better.
He sits over there horny and haggard from listening to your grumpy taunts.
You’re upset with yourself more than anyone else, but you take it out on him.
He wonders when you’ll come to realise those pork sausages are the culprit.
You’re plagued by atrabilious feelings, which only heightens your cloudy thinking.
He does something out of character and gives you a Stomach Ezzy with water.
You’re so shocked you drink it, even though you’d like to cry into the glass.
He sits by you and waits with his eyes closed, for he feels the shit inside of you.
You feel rotten and put the glass and remote down, then paw his legs and feet.
He smiles and opens his eyes to say, “I see your mood’s improving little cat”.
You want to take the piss, but think better of it. All you can say is, “I’m sorry”.
He says, “Pretty one, that is enough…”
I dream of the kitchen cupboards
smashing against your head,
and I cannot stop smiling.
You falling from me so forlorn,
as the wood connects with
that round shiny ball of a head.