self-pity on the year anniversary of Sandy's passing

listening to "Spark" in the kitchen feeling the roll in the kettle waiting on the steam waiting for the whistle to blow mad at God for the decade i've gone without a father for the cancer death of my mother for the division this has caused inside my pysche inside my family and i look at the ceiling and yell inside myself "REALLY??? YOU COULDN'T JUST LET ME KEEP THE FUCKING CAT??? REALLY???" and i try to turn my attention back to the task of making morning coffee but my mourning is coursing hard through my body and my veins are bulging and soon they may tear and if i were to bleed out right here right now on the goddamn kitchen floor i think it would feel really fucking good a goddamn ecstacy if i ever knew one and i want that overwhelming release more than i've ever wanted anything i want the hot outpour of love and loss and longing and need and desire and anger and sadness spilling out of me in one fast flood of finality nothing held back no grace and no apology no explaination none whatsoever and everything everything all at once surging clashing spilling frothing whistling like a kettle if i can't at least have the goddamn cat back