it just gets worse as days go by

the wife says,
“why you grumpy”

“because I am”

she says,

“its more constant

these days”

“oh well, what do you

want at the market?”

and when I get home

i’m gonna lock

myself upstairs

in my room

block the sun

out on this particularly

lovely November day

stare at the walls

watch “Abraham Lincoln

vampire hunter”

and wait for this long day

to end

ill be happy when it’s all over

and I can go back to having

in depth conversations

with  my wife

a little about me

i can be a

moody 'son of a bitch’

especially when I’m

angry

don’t get my way

i'm sick

sexually frustrated

its an awful affliction

i have

i can write you off

in no time

and the only known cure

is to

just give in to me

the bar doesn’t even want me

its  a dead end

when i pull up

to the watering hole

the lights outside

are shut down

disappointment on

my face

the tv inside is passing out

from having too many

drinks that i will not

indulge in

i had plans to drink

sour whiskey

until my eyes closed

and piss out my problems

i see a small elegant

slender figure walking about

i know that figure

as i studied it

many times over

i wait for the “open”

sign to turn on

but

the figure disappears

into the dark

and the tv is out cold

nothing new to me

so i move on