PMS Hammer

It started like this;
The cat (Spike) was scratching my quilt,
A leg sent her flying as the alarm went off,
tripping out of bed,
and stubbing a toe down the stairs,
waiting at the bottom;
2 dogs with wagging tails (Zuki and Nuno),
and dog piss on the new carpet
= one body boiling on a hot stove.

Screaming “FERK, shit,
Where is the sponge?
Get out the fucking house,
shoo”, shrieks, “get out the fucking house!”
Confused black and tan faces race out the sliding door,
And tails cease to wag.

Get the dogs’ food bowl,
sharp stones pierce my bare feet.
“Shit, where are my fucking shoes?”
Shouting and grinding teeth;
no brain, no kick start, lobotomy please.
The helper is one minute late,
stabbing at my watch,
“I told you not to be late!”

Slam the car door,
and drive past the DVD shop,
remembering the DVD’s 10 minutes post the fact,
when three of them stare back at me.
Angry fingers drum on the steering wheel,
slow assholes drive close to the middle of the road
“move over mother fucker,
father’s bastard,
jissee!”, hands fly.
“Can you not see this is a hand signal, wanker?
Move over!”
Wheels burn rubber,
Over a solid white line.
Evil side GLARE,
Shaking head,
(oblivious fucker),
And me,
the scary road rage bleeder.

At the office;
Grunt at colleagues,
And avoid looking at stray dog hair,
an amused soul offers Nine inch Nails,
Trent Reznor relief?
“No thanks,” sweetly, (fucker),
bullet in my head,
rage, rage
enraged.

The computer chugs along
“hurry up”,
thoughts of plastic and glass,
fast forward,
plastic and a hammer
speed x 4, x 10, x 20
chuck the fucker against the wall
a big hammer,
breaks the sound barrier,
lack of iron in the blood?
Then how does heavy metal pulsate through my veins?
I take the computer
And bashing it against the wall,
either side supported by each hand,
in a tight fist,
as though it were the head of all perpetrators,
smashing it into smithereens
over and over, smash, smash.
Such a bitter-sweet chocolate vision
The shards fall at my feet,
I take the hammer and on my knees,
reduce it to a pile of inconsequential plastic and
unrecognisable shattered glass, scattered
and splintered into my palm
glistening with fresh red drops.
Head-hammer-glass,
Glass,
Head,
Hammer.

“Don’t look at me
Don’t talk to me,
Don’t even think...
about me.” *hiss*