family reunion.

oh boy, oh boy, irritation permeates my bloodstream and churns through my being. it’s combating, pulsing, vibrant discomfort, scuffing my aortas in its violent journey from heart to head. I cannot help i️t just as easily as they cannot, as they are children, and I am susceptible to easy irritation. it’s a formula for disaster none that is not unknown to my bloodstream. i am not immune to the poison that comes with the loud, shrill cacophony of people, the banshee of the human condition. bragging, tired men let their mouths hang open to let their boasting complaints flutter out easier, drowning little butterflies overpower all conversation. Meek little housewives tangle their hair into loose buns, propping their hands over their mouths so their husbands do not see the laughter, for chuckling cannot be seen in a man’s butterfly field. Elder “wiser” influences ridicule my path, for if the path I choose is not the path they chose before me, then i️t is not a path worth taking. Knuckles crack and recrack and are forced to recrack once more in a music box of feeble attempt to release unneeded, uncalled for tense frustration. tittering eyes stare at my pencil as i️t scribbles nonsense on a napkin I will later burn on their back porch, rolling i️t up to look like a cigarette because smoking is a more acceptable pastime than acknowledging your emotions.

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family is rather difficult to be around.