the sharpened corners splinter dust flies about the air smoke exhaust inhaled broken cables, tangled hair
this isn't as it should be, it isn't right at all, i'll thrash and bash to make it right then kick it down some more
the fliers torn in two and boxes jumped on flat the tables banged by balled-up fists the yelling match, the spat
this isn't as it should be, it isn't right at all, but can i take a single step to let my temper fall?
feather down the dirty windows, wash the dishes, mop the floors, even though you're not yet there, soon you'll open the right door
inhale satisfaction, exhale greed and pride, you do not need to lift your hand, stillness your solace tonight