Grumpelstiltskin

How stupid is this
mother fucker…is
what I keep asking
myself every morning
as I retreat to my
personal
bathroom.

(the thought of him shitting,
shaving his pubic hairs, and
combing his thinning hair
before I have the opportunity
to enjoy a moment of peace
and quiet and solitude,
infuriates me, setting the tone
for the remainder of the day)

“Honey! Baby!” he yells,
through the cheap bathroom
door
he purchased for a “steal”
and installed himself, with
apparent disregard to
proper measurements
and quality:
“Can you bring me a roll
of toilet paper?”

What I really want to
do
is bring him a roll of dynamite
to blow his hideous bathroom
to pieces,
and, with any luck from a
Just god,
HIM (not his brain, since
that’s already shred to bits).

Oh, why did I marry this man?
Why have I birthed his children?
Can I not cash in a takeback
in this lifetime? A return to sender?
(even though the sender wouldn’t
want him
back).

The traits that I once
recognized as manly
were completely
imaginary; apparently
concocted in my brain,
which makes me think
I may need stronger
drugs
to last another day.

my sanity, my sanity
is what I desire,
but instead,
I chose the dick and
a nice vanity
rather than
a brain and a slice
of sincerity…but cursed,
I received the hilarity,
like most men-
the normal kind
and
not
the rarity.

In the end and at the conclusion
of life, we all receive
a big ‘fuck you’ of what
we’ve been missing–
a big chunk of hindsight
clarity.

Published by

jonathandeanrichie

Recently moved back to the States after living 16 months in Vietnam. I write to remove the thoughts trapped in the cobwebs of my psyche before the spider envelopes me whole.

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