The sounds spill from my mouth.
"Aahhhghhshhhspliminohhhh"

I look for words,
wanting to make some kind of sense.

That day you took your life,
I remember standing in my kitchen,
Wondering what will I make for dinner tonight.  

It's a cruelty of life, this going on with the mundane.

My world crashes like some
Like some
<insert a favorite cliche here>
Like some
<worn out country song>
Like some
I don't know what the **** to call it,

<It just ends.>

But the crazy, sad, infuriating part is this:


It doesn't.

Life just goes on.

And yeah,  I  cry while  I'm chopping the onions.

I cry when I am folding the laundry and I  come across a sock that once cradled your foot, and I  think,  

"What the ****? It's only a sock!"
Not some shrine to the foot that was:

'I love the ground he walks on'

But that's what it becomes.

Then I  just make those sounds.

"Aahhhghhshhhspliminohhhh"
"Whatwereyouthinking? "
"Iloveyouforeverwhy?"