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Coming To A Boil...
Folder:
2001 Breathe in...
Breathe out...
You...
You impossible plaque-carrying leech you.
Having to sit attentively in endless lectures, abide by
the terms of a mind-eroding job, and walking the streets of
this oh-so-conceited city,
Coming home to you is a feat that the Almighty would
in fact cringe of the task.
How pathetically dependent you are
A sponge who irritates the conscience of others,
Others being the fortunate on-lookers of this accident however,
Yet I was awarded the pleasure of residing with you within
4 daily compacting walls.
Sure a smile or two would get you out of my face, using all
my remaining frailed strains of patience on your selfishness
would detour physical conflict, but son, you fail to realize
That slowly...
My pot will gradually fill.
Heat on high.
And with my tolerance coming to a boil,
Lets not forget,
I know where you lie to sleep each night...
Breathe in...
Breathe out...
