A Question posed .... Like a Drunken Supermodel, and then this happened.
Iām tired of the tirades.
Iām weary with weep
Iām full of anger and sleep
eludes me this evening
like a bird escapes a trap
only to turn and hit a window with
a WHAP! and wonder as
sheās dying, sliding down, broken neck,
wide awake and drunk on the
confusion of clarity
how she didnāt see
that ā¦coming.
(Stated in pause, thenĀ ā¦echo, like: e.e. cummings)
I think on all of this
all of these things that
we have said, spoken, tried
to convey. We never listen
long enough to get out of the way
and these trajectories hit us mach 12.
Iām at a loss for words, and god knows
that never happens.
Allow me to pose a question.
When someone discards you,
when they state adamantly how
they are through with you, and that
this isnāt working, and how theyāre done trying.
Then ushers you out of their place, and space
and heart and lifeā¦ Just like that.
As if it doesnāt hurt.
Then proceeds to open ads online
that would make the perfect lyrics
for some Queen song. singing āSave meā
or Come hang out with me and lets see
where this will take us?
Well thenā¦ Does said person
hold the right to prevent you
from doing the same? To possess
your life, your body, your name
and make no claim, yet hold your
progress out in limbo?
You said no one hit you up.
You said you were on there for fun
or because you were bored, or just
looking. But honeyā¦ there you were.
I told you 127 men asked me out.
One took me outā¦. and I liked him.
And now, Iām a ālying cheatā
and under constant scrutiny.
Watching me, waiting for me to fuck up
threats, angrily spit, hurled like bullets
on what youāre going to do if he contacts me.
He broke āThe guy codeā When he said
He would wait for me to finish being hurt by you.
And it brought me back to New York City
when my brother killed a man as punishment
for raping a girl whoĀ "cheated on him.ā (Supposedly.)
becauseĀ this dickĀ beat her half to death for her indiscretion.
I remember how you placed yourself so high above
my family. Called us trash, and New York garbage for
our kind of āvernacular andĀ behavior.ā
A question posedā¦ like a drunken supermodel
and then all this happenedā¦ You stated that
if I dared to attempt to move on
that you would do the unthinkable to him.
And then add as though its sensible
anā¦ āI love you and I want you to be happy.ā
And I wonder sometimes what all this means.
You speak, and say āNormalā as though
it holds some profundity, some secret that
if you figure out what that isā¦ You have
the key to everything.
Well honey, Iām not biting.
Iām not buying, and although I
hold my tongue way more than I used to
and I am more polite, and kinder, and
less intrusive, less combative, more ā¦ pleasing
to both the slight of hand, and the eye.
Iāve lived and learned enough to know.
It doesnāt matter what you change.
It doesnāt matter if you try.
It doesnāt matter if you kill yourself
and manage to become what he believes
in that stifled, pent up, angry heart of his
which swears itself held up by a āgood manā
ā¦is, this illusive āperfect woman.ā
Because in the mind of a man like this
who thinks in both;Ā directness, and contradictions
nothing you do, think, or say to someone like him
will ever be
right.
Why do I stay?
Why didnāt I leave tonight
once again, for the 20th time?
Because I think sometimes
there are simply no solutions
to anything. No reasons, no
regulations.
That everything is
just a slip of insanity, thinking itself
normal compared to everyone else doing the same.
I think everyone Is out to hurt me,
compromise me, spoil my integrity quite on
fucking purpose.
And āTrustā with you is:
a bug on the phone, and a tracker on the car
as you lie and claim you know nothing.
Youāre not the type who trusts honey.
Youāre the type who knows
and when you know,
trust holds no truth, noĀ substance, and no meaning.
As I am left to blind trust.Ā
A question posedā¦ Like a drunken supermodel and then all this happened.
