The Ingrate of Repetition, poetry by Heath Brougher at Spillwords.com
Anthony Fomin

The Ingrate of Repetition

The Ingrate of Repetition

written by: Heath Brougher

 

The couch professor is always professing from the couch—
you can’t tie me up with professional words—
your eyeshadowed shifty shady eyeglances
make me want to jump out the window.

Slack-jawed black-tar suburban living room dictator—
when will you be through with me?
you make me feel like a prisoner
trapped within your infinite verbal walls.
Everywhere I go it haunts my subconscious.
If you don’t talk I won’t get stuck with you.

Everyone’s so rolley-eyed, I dig it—
but you need to know that I am terrified
to scream at you—
that I am done nodding my fractured head for you.
I’m not too amused with your incessant soliloquies..
I haven’t been very amused
by anything human in years now.

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