level-headed
Your Temper is My Poison
There’s chow littered on the staircase floor.
I scramble to clean up the spill before it’s all consumed
By the cat that brought the family bad luck since the late spring.
Here I go, like I always do,
Holding my tongue on the job
While I hear you shout
While I hear you try to crush me
While I hear you goad me to scream.
It confuses me why an act of kindness and good intentions
Can wrought so much volatile sentiments.
I’ve been hesitant to feed the little one because I don’t know his tastes.
Never did I anticipate that her gluttonous habits are what triggers you.
Or is it he? Wow. Just wow.
Anger does wonders to the hippocampus.
My curiosity about how long you’ll live after that squabble fascinates me
But it concerns me at the same time.
Mad people live shorter lives than those that can stay calm when there’s an inconvenience.
To you, I’ve always been the stupid little boy you’ve been raising since thirty-two.
To me, you’ve always been the hot-headed scumbag that loves pushing my buttons.
And your temper is my poison.
Just today, while hitting the road, I thought we’d find common ground.
Keeping our cools while the mama cat is away
And a kitten comes out to play
Before it helps us seek four crystals in need of recovering.
When all that is done, I thought we’d go out for
Bagels and quiche for old time’s sake.
I enjoy the little interactions and activities when your temper is below zero.
Sadly, tonight once again broke the streak
That counted consecutive days we got along.
This always happens growing up, yet I never see it coming.
To you, I’ve always been the stupid little boy you’ve been raising since thirty-two.
To me, you’ve always been the hot-headed scumbag that loves pushing my buttons.
And your temper is my poison.
If you think the black cat is getting pudgy,
Why don’t you take a look in the mirror?
You’ve put on more pounds than she did.
Or he did? How did you get the genders mixed up in the heat?
I guess anger does wonders to the hippocampus.
You’re the reason why I have to keep my temper in check.
And why I prefer tears over beers.
All for the sake of my own well-being so I don’t turn out exactly like you.
Your temper is my poison and I won’t let it fester.
The only antidote to my ailment is knowing that I’ll be out of this roof
Happier than I was living under it just like I was for the past two years.
I know that as a guppy, Mother said to be considerate of you and
I was told that deep inside, you do care.
Sadly, it’s excruciatingly difficult for me not to judge this book by its cover.
I just can’t pry it open to see the pages no matter how hard I try to interpret your rage.
But if this little message hurts your feelings,
It’s a dish served hotter than the volcano in the back of your head.
To you, I’ve always been the stupid little boy you’ve been raising since thirty-two.
To me, you’ve always been the hot-headed scumbag that loves pushing my buttons.
And your temper is my poison. It will always be my poison no matter how old we get.
