Lying on what wants to be a sofa,
but is instead a glorified chair—
My head rattles with failure,
as though it ought to mean something.
My hands hang limp.
My fingers jitter around the floor;
praying for a cat.
Or demon.
The TV continues its shite.
Blaring out noise
to conquer more noise.
Folding in on itself.
Nothing trying to make sense anymore.
Then the irony,
of the toddler—
today, playing doctor.
Sporting nothing but a magnifying glass
and magic bracelet—
making you better.
😭😭😭
No, not a lump in my throat!
It’s just a crumb of a dry shortbread biscuit.
No, not a tear in my eye!
It must have been an eyelash!
Already love the begining of glorified chair actually wishing to be a sofa