when the brother tries to destroy my peace

the stress of your day emanates from you like

the stench of a pending argument

a tension stitched onto your haunched

shoulder blades and the outward curve of your

aching spine down to the soles of your blistered

feet. Your eyes cover the mind of your complaint until I stumble onto

its path and then they unleash – comfort enough to expel-

dense words bitter with resentment and all the poison of your day

I feel the venom take over my mind as I retreat- too slow

too slow,

and all too soon my mind is tar and my thoughts terrible

and I can’t eat lunch because now I am in a dark space

and you smile from across the table

watching as I sink beneath the weight of your negative complaints

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