I was starving in
Pennsylvania.
One night, I had
enough.
Done with it all.
The poverty and
sickness.
The drunken mad
nights
and dog-fight days.
Brutality for breakfast.
Served sunny side up
runny yolks with
butterflies trapped in
the yellow sunshine.
Spiders built webs in
my soul.
I stood on the torn-up
couch in my living room and
yelled at the walls.
Listen, you devil.
You want me, you better be
ready for a fight.
I paced the floor like a
washed-up heavyweight champ,
eyeing the ceiling like a
drunken sparrow in a cat’s mouth.
hello dearet Thomas I’ve had my share of war with him one particular night I anointed my whole house and yard with olive oil I felt so under attack it was relentless I feel for your struggle in this write and have been there great write 💕
Thank you, Brenda. I appreciate it.
Powerfully penned, Thomas. Stellar imagery, and a fabulous read. I could picture the scene. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thanks, my friend.
What a poem. Damn! In your face. Love it!
Thank you so much.
Brilliant description of egg yolks, best I’ve heard.
You have a gift, Thomas
I appreciate that. Thank you.