age
of uncivil law

if i doze in my underware downstairs
so be it
if the telly mumbles low so i turn it loud
so be it
if you cook food so late i have to shout
so be it
if you keep quiet so i presume mysogynies
so be it

it is your fault arthritis burns my temper
it is your fault my telly growls inside your head
it is your fault food no longer has flavour
it is your fault i ignore your silent fear