oscillating between extremes

the seesaw tilts, slamming the body into hurtful,
no genteel daisy picking, nope, love me, love me not,
the mind playing warped ideologies, you, tossed about

I want her; all men do; the rapture is coming, her eyes,
preach to the converted and the soon-to-be; join her,
her semi-colon smile, represents a hell of near-completion!

discourse, pleadings, all for naught, she, teacher/grader,
A or F, frenzied thrown to the ground, her lips say oops,
but we know, a throwing intentional, a mastery of reminder!

barbs of  batting eyelids, whipping tongue tips reveal daggers,
woe is me, whoa I plead, there is no mercies extant, instead, we
oscillate up and down, tween extremes, I need her, can’t have her!

I hate her! and myself, for myself, I love her so, my hate for her is less
than our mutual mocking of me...

————

we oscillate between extremes, at least, we are together...

Sometimes clouds
Sometimes rain

Sometimes a little gray
to wash away
the inhumane

Days at home and I have started hearing things,
My furniture and home appliances seem to talk to me.
My bed says "Come and lie down,
Enjoy tea in me,"
My pillows say,"Hug us,relax everything is going to be fine.
As I entered the kitchen my toaster jumped up to warn me of my wife's mood,
Too late, we started arguing and the vacuum told me to **** it up,
To make matters worse the washing machine put a different spin on everything.
The T.V and my mobile threatened to die if I did not give them rest,
Furious I banged the front door,
The door **** advised me to get a grip,
But the door screamed I was unhinged,
At that my fan soothingly said it would soon blow over,
At last the curtains ordered me to pull myself together.
4/4/2020

I know there are chores to be done
Laundry pile is growing large and looming
The corner of my room overcrowded
Bin sits and as I wait it's blooming

I fear there be dishes in the sink
If I listen close I can hear
Cry out my name shamelessly
I try not to get too near

I am not blind to the layer of dust
All objects on my bedside table
Mom wasn't lying when she remarked
"This coated house is disgusting!"
"It looks like a stable!"

But don't feel like doing anything
Washing dishes
Or clothes
Or cleaning
I think I'll just lose myself
Some deeper meaning

fall from the lies

you've pinched yourself poor

fall from the lies

they are no nesting place

fall from the lies

thrive

from your dormancy

shudder off your sleep state

regain your currency

fall from your lies

and the famine of all this 'luxury'

Not waving, but drying.
Not surrender, but hope.
Not a reckless abandon
to the uncaring elements,
but a careful reading of the gusts,
of the distant clouds,
of any sign of coming gales.

Not waving, but drying
by a canny application
of my mother's oversized,
double applied,
long-legged, wooden pegs.

Not waving, but drying
by lunchtime.