kick


and again
 
Glug. You heard me.. Glug.
 
*kick*
 
I hate on the frustrating walls of these tombs
I hate on breakfast, murky, sludge in the grud-light
I hate the sound of voices, shrill, nails popping toasters
I hate the amber glow of dog hair
slipping down another thick throat. 
I hate, I hate chain link fences
the effort to understand that slips
into the dread pit
of the heart place.
 
I hate patterns
I hate chaos
I hate simplicity
I hate complications
I love my foot banging the black side
of the file cabinet, ringing me up
reminder that pain is life,
life is random
choices fleeting and illusory
so make it a good run, a good run-
with your throb foot pounding
the black tar
 
of another fucking day. 
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8 thoughts on “kick

  1. “sludge in the grud-light”… how many times have I said that? Well, none, actually, but I WISH I had…

    It’s amazing how a concept (hate) has become an embodied object in our language…

    This is great (if indeed hate can be qualified in a positive way), so many delicious similes and quirky descriptions that we’ve all experienced yet never quite captured. I could read this every day…

  2. This is fierce (oh, that word has been appropriated and means something else now, I mean it as it was intended ;) ), it really gets in your face, which is as it should be, great.

  3. Bob- Me too. I loved it at first, but now the nail popping toasters line is driving me batty.

    Thanks for the kind comment :)

    bibliomom- I’m so glad you’re back! But I’m going to be glad from way over here till the kicking mood subsides. ;)

    barbara- We’ll have a kicking party! Or maybe we could just start a soccer game.

    Christina- I’ve been readin’ you, you’re pretty good at expressing yourself, I’d say. But you can join our soccer game.

    jo- ‘Fierce’, it’s suddenly everywhere! Thank you.

    Paul- I feel fine, ty. My foot’s a little sore, though.

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