the horror

the night before last, I saw it.
I stopped in the middle of
a sentence, so overcome
by what I had seen, and a loud cry
of disgust escaped me, but
I didn’t do anything about it
just then. I was overwhelmed
by the sheer spitefulness
of the act, the evidence of which
lay in a puddle in an impossible
to reach corner of the room.
it couldn’t be more obnoxious
if it tried. I was just so appalled
that I couldn’t handle it.
tonight I noticed it again.
it’s probably dry
by now. I really have to
bite the bullet
and clean up that
cat puke. any
day now.

Published by

R. Brookes McKenzie

what fresh hell is this

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