the stew of a stoic

for two decades, he has been stewing,

in a rather large pot,

ice hot tears soup.

the pot has been steadily getting more and more full.

in fact, it's to the point now where if he shifts the pot too much,

the contents will slosh and slightly spill

from underneath the lids of his eyes

burning, causing redness and pain.

he almost spilled the entire pot today.

many people would have been in the hospital

pitifully nursing third-degree burns.

it's a good thing his Father caught it just in time...

the contents have been rocking for a while now,

sometimes reaching to the brim on either side.

steam rises constantly.

sometimes a mist, practically invisible;

sometimes dense, leaving its beads of evidence

on the skin of those foolish brave enough to come close,

but always present.

sometimes people attempt getting close enough to peek inside,

or to catch a whiff,

to see what could possibly be going on in there...

some, he permits.

others, however, he most certainly does not.

what he finds most amusing, though, is when those meddlers

(who caused inspiration for the stew in the first place)

remove the lid without permission or warning

and stir aggressively with a filthy spoon.

or toss in handfuls upon handfuls of rancid ingredients.

or, his personal favorite,

when they successfully (so they think)

lift and close the lid with the utmost care,

and then knock the knob to the burner ever so slightly,

just enough to crank up the heat.

he lets them think that they're helping--

that they are contributing something special.

and they are, really...

it just isn't what they think.

they are only adding volume and density.

they are only causing the mixture to brew faster.

and when it is finished,

they will be the first to taste.

it will be too hot,

and they will be brutally burned.

it will be rancid,

and they will wish to spit it out.

it will be full of the pain and suffering

salt, pepper and vinegar

that has simmered for so very, very long,

and they will gag,

trying with everything not to swallow,

but they will be made to consume it all.

and then...

it will be gone,

and she

he shall stew no more.