The second time I woke up,
I heard him call my name from above.
He asked me,
“what the hell you doin’ down there?”
I yelled undecipherable sounds and nothing else.
He shouted back,
“spit the marbles out.”
There were many times I wished I had marbles to throw.
I grabbed my yo-yo and chucked it down the stairs.
Maybe it would hit him in the temple,
give him that terrible headache instead of me.
Make him wish. Make him dead.
I will gladly bury him.
Getting louder, getting closer, he moved like a
stampede of rhinos.
I find no comfort when he asked me,
“what’s wrong now?”