one of these days, you wicked old chair of mine, you will fail
in supporting this torn-up piece of animal corpse
without receiving even the slightest excess of force
you will fracture along a long-envisioned inner crack

propped up by three wounded ikea legs
revenge with side of freshly cut-up bleeding meat
just imagine, old buddy, how perfectly sweet
the unbounded flavor of finally returning the overdue favor

you could've been a part of a white picket fence
if not for me, who took a chance on you and i
amidst an ever-changing one-bedroom pig sty
working for years along an elaborate plan
patient but eager, each other's only desperate fan