Nuptial Nausea

Proximity does breed contempt
And my husband is not exempt

All the things I once found cute
Make me want to kill the brute

In my dopamine addled haze
I hung on to his every phrase

Now three years into the marriage
I want to throw him under the carriage

His infinitives are routinely split
Scatological, his only wit

Leaves participles dangling
When he’s not rambling

Begins sentences with ‘Basically’
Answers questions evasively

At karaoke, believes he is Jagger
Without an ounce of the swagger

I can’t get no, Satisfaction
Only an allergic reaction

With ferocity, he digs his nose
To extract his gooey amigos

Then with ardour, he rolls the snot
Makes me wish it were my G spot

For days he wears same underpants
Ignores these, my gorgeous implants

I would have left him sooner
For that hunky piano-tuner

If it wasn’t for his chequebook
and the equity stake in Facebook

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