For Better or Worse – Spoken Word Poetry


For worse. Proximity so close yet I’m
alone, In solitary I’m confined at home. Through fever chills and weakness I face
doom; Need barf bucket but can’t count on my groom. Projectile vomiting my insides
out, But you don’t hear me even when I shout. With angry words you wonder why
I’m sorta-kinda miffed. Am I important or did your feelings shift? I’m
faced now with estrangement and rejection like I’ve attracted a flee
borne infection. when did your blushing bride become a
hag? You avoid me like the bubonic plague Out in your man cave you’re serene, With
earbuds in, can’t hear me scream. Won’t nurse the hurt you cause before you go,
You press in deeper to inflame those buboes. With blind eyes misinterpret
all my pain; You cannot cope with your agenda slain. ‘Til death do us then part, so much
at the stake. But how can we recover from virulent outbreak? Both caught up,
self-absorbed in our own tasks, Dismissing each request the other asks.
Desperate in need still our behavior mocks; you watch your baseball games while
I sort socks. Strike one, strike two, strike three, you’re out.
No nudge felt in the spirit we’ve repressed, With all the things that
matter not addressed. Have we forgotten vows of better/worse? So with mascara
tears, I answer terse. Death penalty is no threat communicate! Behaviors reinforce
we separate. We have put a wall across our countryside. With barriers there’s no
chance to collide. Your work comes first and I am pushed aside. Today is Christmas Day
why would you hide? No mistletoe to kiss ‘neath; you just shoot missiles. Let’s cover your
side of the bed in thistles. I need a bullhorn; you can’t take a hint.
Remember me? I am NOT your pocket lint. We need an act of parliament to axe our ways.
Without a cure, I’ve only a few days. You see, I’m sick; my skin’s turned black and
blue. My blood’s been poisoned.
Now what will you do? My heart feels like it’s died of violent death,
‘Cause you say “Wait…” But I can’t hold my breath.
Must clean the air before I soon relapse. my oxygen’s cut off my lungs
collapse. This plague is killing me, yet you still doubt. So pardon my messy
moments bleeding out! For better Back from the dead, I’ve had
some time to think. A marriage to anyone else would still have kinks. So iron
sharpens iron; I’ve seen that’s true. And perhaps at times I use mine to poke you.
And you leave yours to lie around so I trip; Don’t help me up after it breaks my
hip. Your crassness and neglect, still doesn’t work, But I can’t imagine life
with any other jerk.

1 thought on “For Better or Worse – Spoken Word Poetry

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