fantod

Murder's Prelude:

it's the little things -
the smacking lips,
the cracking knuckles,
the mispronunciation
of a simple word -
that give me the flaming fantods,
set my teeth on edge
and send me spiraling.

but sure, ask me again
for the thing I've shown
you how to do a million times
and that you could do yourself
if you could but be bothered

you aneurysm,
ask me again
before I've had my coffee