What wonderful friendship would be a nice
stalemate if you hated me and I hated you;
the way you treat me as your punching bag
yet help me with all the usual domestic duties
so its fine, though a right to vent frustration,
treat me like a criminal remains, and I will be
one while you’re martyr to your own
‘wonderful’ personality

If that’s what life means, your fighting, biting,
being bitter when the things bothering you
are a door you couldn’t fit, your daughter’s
unemployment, your son’s chaotic love affair