Tired

I am tired of it.
This life, this day.
Fess up ? Shut up.
Fed up ? Throw up.
Projectile puke this weariness
From my core.
Limbs leaden, mind is mud
Yet sleep still exhaustingly illusive.
Eyes involuntarily fluttering
Like a butterfly in a fan.
Sounds never sensed, auditory tricks,
Startling resistance awake.
Pleading for waves of warmth
To lap over me.
Sweet dreams please carry me home,
Away from this shore, this view.
I am tired of it,
Can't stand (it) anymore.
Tonight's glass half empty will be
Tomorrow's half full.
So tired.

Spooning Leads to Forking

You cop a feel while I load the washer
with your stinky socks and boxers.

You  grab my ass when I scrub the thrones
of the urine dribbled by the  Y chromosomes.

You point to your  crotch to let me know
of  yet another fabulous erection sure to curl my toes.

Sweetheart, I do enjoy what lies beneath
but for God’s sake brush your teeth.

A little respect dear, please,
if you want me on my knees
admiring your member.

At least try to remember
our anniversary is the 4th of September.

Okay ? Alright ?
If I’ve just held a puking child in the night
or  picked up the dog shit from the lawn
then it’s a good bet , moron,
that right then I don’t feel like making love
until I’ve had a shower with my favorite Dove.

But, Darling, if you give me 20 minutes to unwind
then sensual thoughts will come to mind.

Nuzzle my neck, kiss my thighs
the pleasure bubbles begin to rise,
like champagne at the uncorking.

You know, Sweety,
Our spooning always leads to forking.