Plight of a Roommate

In and out of sight you fly,
Lurking in every dark corner.
If faith were to grant me better eyes,
You’ll pay for all your serious crimes.

Slaps on the face with my own hands,
You scream down my ears and float
Past my eyes.
Got me bed ridden with a pounding head.
Fatigue, Weak joints and little appetite.

I imagined craved, even desired ice cream.
Labored to the shops to satisfy my urge.
One spoon full and it’s not the same.
Tastes like vanilla and a bit of salt.

So be warned my friend, your days are
Numbered.
With Baygon and Raid I’ll have my revenge.
If that doesn’t work, my palms will work.
One by one, victory will be mine.

The other’s Reply………

Relax young man, stop over reacting,
You’re not the first to threaten and curse.
Under your bed, your shoes, your sheets.
I’ll choose wherever I want to sleep.

The slap on your face was your own making,
As I was merely passing by.
I’d had my fill the night before, and would have some
More that night as well.
Wouldn’t I have been foolish to risk my life?

The ice cream you craved, you eat twice a week,
But because of greed you labored in vain.
You should have been resting and taking your medicine.
Vanilla and salt sounds like a treat.

And what’s all this about my numbered days?
I am Anopheles mama of mosquitoes,
If God should grant you better eyes,
He’ll equally grant me quicker wings.

You think your superior because you’re a man,
The sons I have I can’t even count,
Stop your moaning and all of your noise.
Your bottom of my food chain,
Accept that fact.


The two of them still live together, struggling to love and accept each other.