Furious, not content, I now seethe,
a sulking denizen, sighing face wan,
I’d rather vomit than angrily breathe
in despair I do what I can.
Taunting door slammed no more
due to curling smoke and self-centeredness
now I sneer instead of snore
kept awake by sorrowful abscess
Clogged and distracted I struggle
to wake from trailing in hers
but it is hard not surrender in anxious tender huddles
disdain I channel, a frothing and furious curse,
would that he would choke on my thoughts vile and terse,
he is due for a madness I wish I could reimburse.