petit mal

the putrid stench of your residuum
still thick in my nostrils as I awake
from the slovenly degradation
of my cowardice

the rancid odour of your penurious assault
hangs heavy in the montage of mislaid smells
that is the air I breathe
and choke upon

the exiguous perturbation that you exert
lies rank and stale beside the
sinewy recusancy of turmoil
that you serve for breakfast

the transient nuance in the squalid decay
is short lived and almost unwelcome
as your moods of inconsistency swing
like a temporary penult

so as I quaff the curdled odium
and the bile rises in a dipsomaniac charge
you transform the cacophony of life
into a mellifluous choir

and I am left confused ...

Top Of The Page