the banality of angry things roar

today was a long day
after a long weekend
the house fell to pieces
while we rested on our laurels

you won’t hold still
and let me get a good look at you
you are so full of will and joy
I am exhausted

too much so to know
whether that’s depleted
or plain old tired

nodding off
at the sink
and on the floor
in a game of
angry things roar and then everyone runs away and then by some mysterious calculus there’s either a daring rescue or a retaliation, but usually more angry roaring and repeat,
occasional developmental coda

obliged to carry on, and sublimely
happy to carry on but
wondering all the same about
what might become of the world
if even one of these thoughts was
given space to fledge.

what if [finitude]
and my idea generator gets [sick of]
the considerable lack of [follow-up]?

all I get is a kid
who doesn’t need me any more
and a pitiful stream of
de-contextualised snapshots

I am exhausted
and rewarded
with the thought
that all I can think
is banal
thought
is banal
with
or without
line breaks

//ends