7 May 2012
I pace, during this argument, Talking to myself. She's stormed off.
First there's just anger. I clench fist and buttock, Teeth set, hissing bitches Friggins and pissoffs. The 'effs' give way to 'ifs:'
If you think for one minute That you have any right... If you can't see... If that's not good enough for you, well.. If you want me to leave, then...
What if she wants me to leave? Now it's strength in martyrdom:
I'll be out of your way by the morning... I'll make sure you have money... You'll no doubt want to keep my sofas... Yes, mine! I bought them, And you've made me sleep on them enough! Then visions of the future chill:
Every night asleep alone, The sofa and the TV And face-pizza Where boredom made me snooze Mid- pepperoni... Where desperate loneliness Makes me jump up to answer the doorbell Ecstatic for the want of company, To find the pizza delivery man Needing change.
Change? Do I really need things to change?
The solemnoquy ends. Lighten up, Swallow pride, Apologise. Think of post-argument sex.
Job done.
Solemnoquy • Opuss № I