I hate, truly despise from
the essence of my soul,
fucking washing machines.
Why must you send those fragrant
scented bubbles hurtling across
my floor, caressing all they
find? Why must you fill my sink?
Why must you make my life
so fucking hard. Why must I call Mr
plumber again. Again.
Never in my life did I ever dream
I would say this, but please
I just want to do the fucking
Karen Hayward ©2016