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(If I could spit venom, this paper would hiss.) I cant sleep, it's dark and i can feel your memory biting my eyes are sore with the persistence of it weeping, rasping, clawing, grasping at my spine (still too apathetic to grant me the bravery to walk away and not bend my honest head to you). I lay uncrowned, and forever in spite of you cowled, full scowl despite the lovely sight of you and still that look, the "in love with you", it gets me, it breaks my will with the slight of you, I'm tipsy, and it breaks my heart that you'd drive right off forever. I'd forgive a slight of every type of hue, but baby this one's past my standards so let words hail down like falling planets (where i held you, you were stranded...) forget my plight, you never cared a damn bit you abandoned every care you might have had, and you preplanned it so don't play lover now that you've left me scared because scarred is exactly how the heat will sear your statistical abuse into my tender heart-strings recording what was love once, and deserves to be preserved before every fantasy dies, and love with it burning to ashes before my very eyes so fast its turning to ashes so fast, and I'm dying. Another slavery for more lies that bound her hands from reaching out to me, her hands from reaching out to keep the notion that maybe i might be someone instead of just another anyone, like the way everyone treats everyone anymore. You bare the soul weight of promising to be different the soul face for all of my resentment, the true face of responsibility, heavy is the head that wears that crown, and heavy is the head that you let down... so lets let your locked lips be the end of it because if you couldn't say something then, then to hell with love, you had your chance to save it. I asked you nice through subtleties to cradle close and safe my heart, a gift bestowed to willing fingers still playing patti-cake with my emotions I asked you nice, because You said you loved me, and I still believed there was some meaning to that word. My life is one big irony, bitter like Shakespearean humor, deathly sonnets heavy fates, and love as truth, more irony. F*** Jude, no one will understand this poetry not one mocking soul can piece two words of mine together i am the mad man, but every syllable sets in it's cast stone for reason i will go forever misunderstood, i will get on: forever misunderstand me.
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