Typical Sunday Chaos

Typical sunday chaos:
a spark of anger, barking anger. 
Stark scarcity of love. 
The beige clock on the 
back wall ticks:
tick
tick
tick. 

The predator shall hunt again,
wild with hunger— 
a lust for blood and flesh. 
A maddening pursuit for
the endless ego
of the heart. 
“Cathartic”. 

A disgusting gaze,
a strong, firm grip,
a sweaped up mind. 
Justification for the action,
and disgrace for the reaction. 

A song of screams, the symphony of
muffled sobs, the tune of a powerless
whimper and a shameless laughter. 
Echoes: stop, stop, stop. 
A deafening, engulfing, unbearable silence. 
A final strike,
depicting the end of the game.

Black out.