I hear you cursing at the tv again,
what did it do this time?
Tell you something you didn’t want to hear?
As if it is forcing you to stay
in that dark den, made darker
by the unrelenting haze of cigarette smoke.
Your one lung gasps for fresh air
with every crude cough.
Your thinned blood boils
at the government that raises prices
of things that you don’t buy.
at the driver in front of you,
at the dog that got in your way.
But you put yourself where you are now,
holding private protests against televangelists.
Creating a forever crease in the cushion
that will be there long after you’re gone.
Your body has stopped being restless,
and forget what it feelings like to run,
to work with your hands,
to have a task to do.
Two heart attacks and four stints later,
part of your heart is dead.
It couldn’t take it anymore,
this person you’ve become.
It just let go,
hoping you’d do the same.