The MAD Pt.I "Thanksgiving '08"

Kelsey Amell
Battling an eye twitch.
Frustration's electricity begins hauling ass to the fingertips.
Slouched in an uncaring manner,
Rocking vigorously in the Lazy Boy-
If grandfather knew, he'd kill me.
Head's ticking like a pendulum in continuous motions.
Left, right, left, right
Scanning all this perfection in this fake, monstrous, 
"close-knit" Latin sanctuary-
Heirlooms only I shall never recieve
Hand-me-down clocks looking like garage sale special-
staying in sync with my flow.
Making myself try to care less-
These bears never leave their den.

Of course, no happy get-together goes without
the tradition of "bashing"
Singling out Who? You guessed it.
Harsh comments
Smartass remarks
Hurtful put-downs
Not to mention, the looks to  try cover that they really don't give a damn.
New conversations are rushed taking place in the middle of my answers
To their plastic questions 
"Where are you going after high school?

At this point, the chair's head rest is smashing the cheap,
ancient paneling.
Taking a break to lean forward, 
Taking the first calm-paced breath
in what seemed to have been hours passed.
Snatch the delicate, white, hand-crochet doily
Yellowed from over 50 years of bad habits 
and black coffee drinkers.
Staring in a way that seems to be an adoring glow,
And touched it slowly to find the entrance. 
Pull, tear and pluck.
Somehow, innocently giving myself a little reenactment of the past.

Close my eyes, feeling the grip enter at the nave-
Reach up, curve, hooking all matters in my chest,
Grabbing my gut as it leaves my body,
Ripped and thrown 
So the rest can enjoy some taunting too.

Whoever told the public that Turkey makes you tired,
is a rotten liar.