deepundergroundpoetry.com

House of Radiance

First thing I have to say is I'm a microwave.
I am nemises with the toaster.
They say I make soggy bread.

First I have to explain how I am writing to you.
I am radiant but no one sees me smile.
So no one looks me in the eye when my stomach is churning on the inside.

I blinked in Morse code and the desktop picked it up.

So we're pals. She types letters for me.

Every time you leave the house, we sit at the round table
plotting your death somehow.

Maybe something old in the back of the fridge that you think is fine.
But you always'll find ice on the floor.

I thought I loved you.
You clean me every other day.

But you turn the lights off.
You turn the conditioner on in the summer and the heater on in the winter
only when you walk into the house.

I always wanted to be loved for my differences, but you never read my serial number.
I'm just another microwave to you.

You like the toaster, the fryer, the stove, the oven.
You say to me, "I will try not to use you."

The store, the shelf, other me's, other models.
No sense of identity or of competence.
I want you to use me, to want me,
but if you don't love me anymore
and you picked me up because I was moderate and cheap,
I won't have it.

I'm afraid of the dark, you imbecile!
The only thing I liked about that shelf was the constant light.

Damn you!
Damn you!

I had to do it.

Your bathing and horrid tunage. LA LA LA.

Throwing the toaster in the water.
You were the only one I loved,
but now you're soggy bread.
Written by DecipherMe
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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