Whenever possible
Bathe with small electrical devices
Like that catcher of resentment
The standard kitchen toaster
Cheeky fucker, he is
But hey, it’s not like he can fight back
Fuck him
He’s ugly too
And the best part
That little scrappy shit
Has to sit here and listen
While I blow up his spot
While I plot his demise
Which, I guess, brings me to the source
Of my toaster resentment
The thing fueling this scorching, crispy tirade
I’m pretty sure he’s just playing dumb
I’m certain of it, to tell true
He’s reporting all he knows
To some body of higher-ups
Some confederacy either here or abroad
Transmitting right in the convenience of my own kitchen
Fact collecting to confirm this far-fetched hypothesis
It’s a matter of patience
The pudding of proof is simmering on the electric coil
And I’m fucking stirring it, man
It’s They, THE They
The biggest and baddest
The minority-ruling They
That he’s whispering to
But the last laugh is mine
Because They might have my number
But me?
I’ve got their fucking toaster

This started as a letter to someone that was never finished. I was writing little reminders to myself on the side because I’m neurotic as hell when communicating with others. The first 2 items on the list were “I’m an asshole” and “Take breaks from yourself.” The third list item was “Whenever possible bathe with small electrical devices,” because I am incapable of making a list without adding some suicidal ideation bullet to it. And that’s the story of how this particular prose poem came into being. Nifty, no? No.


About Moly

Average, boring, self-involved human. Twitter: @CultOfCocktails Facebook:
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2 Responses to Toasty

  1. Sabiscuit says:

    Nifty. Yes, yes! I loved it. That line about the electrical devices stood out. Enjoy the week ahead. xo

    Liked by 1 person

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