Home and Away

Despite distracted tendencies to the latter
I find myself in ill natured reciprocity with
A faithful familial fondness for inequity
And the desperado I feed tidbits and scraps to
Underneath a table -
- Linen lined -
Not like dollies or lace,
But simple and flat
A sheer sort of canvas for the mistreatment
Of fallen foods
Foul finds its way into the stomachs that hound
After the table like they haven't had enough to eat
An insatiable kind of lust for the slime of week old
Leftovers from the fridge

I beg for the party of five looking to dine tonight
To search for tables unlike the kind I serve
That of worry, and disillusioned captives
Caught staring at their own hands
Wondering how the lines of fate
Are any different than the burns and scars.

Some say the shaking from black cups of coffee helps to ease the pain
And some argue that the inclusion of wet cigarettes makes me a poser
Either way I'm at a loss for how to properly describe the ache in my eyes
The way it loosens over the spaces in between objects and threatens
Their very existence - called into question as if to say,

"No, we will behave as we like and return when the channel has been
Changed to something other than a home reno or kitchen terror."