I HAVE THE POWER hahahaaaaaa

This is the... third time I've snapped. Was it the third, second or fourth? I've lost count... it's 448am and I am loopier than a train trying to follow a bendy racetrack.
Tossed and turned for five hours; one itch became a whole body twitch, wondering where the spider is and how I can kill it. Wondering if it wasn't a spider after all, but a moth or a cockroach or a persistent clan of ants...
    What would she think? She watches me anyway, begs me to spew curtained rage but I can't. Because I'm the one in power with calmed intensity, licensed fuel behind firepowered words. My father; he is an arsehole. A putang ina mo, salamat. He kicked my baby, so I told him if I ever caught him again I would lodge my foot so far up his anal passage he would forget who he was and what year it is. Horsepower to the arse. He told Mum; and Mum laughed because she knows its true. She would not care about a lost shoe partner. That is one piece of evidence I would gladly leave behind after a kind deed.
He's slamming the microwave, teasing plastic, rummaging through unneeded bottles of pills in the medicine cabinet and laughing like a manatee in great pain; and my eyes are as rigid and aware as a magpie guarding her nest.
I rang Mum before. We laughed, I smoked, she half-worked and we tantalized each other with the idea of a great cup of coffee to start the already-born day. Putang ina mo's vindictive behaviour echoes through the house like magnet shame. Shame on his part because he knows I have the power, and he is in the wrong. He got mad, because Mum told him not to kick the cats. And now he's trying to pay me back...I fancy a walk. The air is as crisp as freshly squeezed lemonade; many people wake up at this hour because its a good time to walk or work out. I do fancy a walk... I've become infatuated with the angle of light across asphalt and dozing lawns. It's quite cool, too; I wouldn't mind being painted in the scent of morning breath. I really have gone loopy. Loopier than Jack Nicholson on The Shining, loopier than a drunk and lost flock of seagulls trying to use their beaks as compasses.