Give Her A Little Freaky Freaky She Looks Frustrated Poem by jerome moore

I was feeling at that precise moment or me seeing her sober, but she was beautiful. And she was looking right through me though, which honestly made me uncomfortable, like I was in the line of fire. I sensed the pressure build up in that tiny room like we were trapped in a tea kettle. Under the placid top layer there was a boiling core waiting to erupt in its tin belly and ricocheting like a gun scream in a belfry. I looked at the debris, which covered the kitchen floor. Camden was dancing around the kitchen island like a man on fire he had a broom in one hand and an oven-mit in the other. Leah was screaming like a sub-humanoid in heat. "You treat me like a kid! , I am not an idiot! "learn how to cook and I will stop treating you like a little girl" Leah became irate, the air didn't smell like burnt meat anymore, it had more the aroma of hemlock all was either melting or burning into the night.