I step into the crooked house,
dreadful of my mother's return.

the house was a mess, per usual
her menstrual blood splattered across every tile
what a disgusting wretch.
I want to chop her up.

I creep up the wooden stairs to my door
it stays open because I never bothered to fix the doorknob.
it was bright in my bland room, the sunlight shining
through the blinds
my puny retinas are unable to handle it, I hurry and shut them.

I can hear the front door whine.
I wince.
She's back.