Bouts.

It comes in fits
and tantrums.

Intermittent
bursts of
responsibility.

I'll **** the place up
for two months,
then in one day I'll
clean everything.

One time Mom got sick of me
not picking up my room.
I was eight.
She turned into a whirlwind
and tore everything off my walls.
Ripped everything off my shelves.
Upturned my garbage can
and my tackle box.
She dumped everything
into a big pile
in the middle of my room.

I cried and
in my first bout
of responsibility,
I cleaned it all up.

Just to start all over again.