ink smeared onto palms touching
smelling of slight rust and the ever present sweat
sweat off of a workers back who comes home to find what?
his wife sitting watching ellen asking questions
why are you so tired?
why can't we go out?
the worker won't say, how can he say
how he works all day and into the night
while his wife,his once beautiful,still beautiful wife
sits in the leather couch he bought
in the gucci shoes she bought from the money he made
working through the day and into the night?
so the worker just sighs because her beautiful face is full of hate
that beautiful face is his face to hate
being catholic and having 2.5 kids isn't noble for him anymore.
the once happy family is now addicted or hiding
the dogs always wheezing and his granddaughters crying
so the worker leaves.
he leaves to the motel on 4th
he wrestles in the sheets
its more then just her
he wrestles with madness
he writes because shame can show but can't be judged on paper.