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Picking up the phone in your apartment
Punching re-dial
Never questioning the last number you called
Was mine
I am shocked to hear many digits being dialed
Instead of just seven
And being answered by a computerized menu
For a Date-Line
Instead of my house.
I am filled to the brim with searing hot coals
Consuming the lining of my soul
Tying my guts into insoluble knots
Murdering my sleep
Battering my peace
Worrying when you will finally
Do It Again.
I look at you
And the urge to slap you across the face
Leaving small scarlet finger whelps on your cheek
Is nearly overwhelming,
Burning in my limbs and heart.
A raging beast dwells in me
Your name carved
Into its' forehead with a dull knife.
Beware, Pretty Man.
Beware.
(I stifle that urge,
Ashamed of its' origins
Recognizing the criminal nature of that particular passion…)
When the fire has banked
I weep
Endless
Copious
Bitter
Pitiful
Solitary
Weighted
Tears.
I think if I just
Talk To You
You'll see how you hurt me
and stop
Phoning these lines as though
These faceless women hold the cure for
Your
Terminal illness.
(The Fates are grinning and mocking me as they read…)
Then I consider
That if I have to tell you to stop
It is probably a useless and beleaguered effort,
Akin to contaminating the field of
A sociological study.
I could never trust the outcome,
The evidence of data obtained
Questionable.
You are a fool;
You are a fool many times over.
Too caught up in your excuses of dysfunction
To see what you hold in your arms every night.
Like lemmings to the sea
You will repeat your fatal behavior
Whether I love you enough to save you or not.
It is finally apparent
That you do not think
You need saving.
Treacherous thief !
Vile debaucher !
Villainous sleaze !
Surreptitious purloiner !!
In this moment,
I despise you.
In this moment,
All my understanding
Of
What Motivates You
Flies out the window
And the Angel of my Longing
Flies in
Lonely and empty
Once more.
You are deceiving
Only yourself,
My Dear.
I see the cripple in you
Now
And his visage repels me.
You are making it easier
And easier
To turn my back on you
Forever.
I not only detest what you are
But what you are making of me.
I barely recognize myself any more.
Perhaps I will succumb
To the hateful desire
To even the score.
It would serve you so well.
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