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THE CLICHE SUBJECT MATTER
I tried to study you best way I could without weighing my infatuation
And before I knew it I was knee deep in a classless obsession
I added you to my thinking pattern, all your small numbers multiplying themselves
In my head I became a slave to your division of focus between what was good for me and how I could attain you
 The proportions were irregular but I was headstrong in my resolve to solve your equation
Needless to say something in me was subtracted,
The square route always led me to dense integers that refused a fraction of my attention
I tried to cover the radius of your focus the few times you put your hands on my body
Never realising that this was the height of our union
I ignored the endless Venn diagrams that showed how our worlds could never collide
But baby I was not ready to give up on our numbers

So I found myself looking at our history trying to understand how our beginning was the end
I stumbled upon your communist heart that refused to be owned by me
You told me “baby I belong to the world and cannot deprive the world of my existence”
In my bid to find favour in your eyes I set up camp in your world
Ready to share stolen moments with you, I starved my greedy unsighted heart of affection
At least I was a blimp in the map that led to your mind’s eye
Somebody should have told me that your socialism was hypocrisy, that it was all a ploy
That you were a collector of pure hearts
You with your selfish capitalist mind that knows only to acquire
You identified my need and you created the market for all desperate souls in need of your presence.
Honey is there a compromise, is there a coalition of thoughts to govern our hearts
Is there a chance that if I hold you captive it will be a perfect coup?
That the monarchy of your conceited needs will finally vacate your throne
And I will unclog your tyrannical system; 
That my curves can control more than how hard your manhood rulesWill I one day get the chance to revolutionise your mind? 

Because I’m too exhausted to continue with this little science experiment 
You have been the catalyst so long you don’t know how to be on the other side of the equation
I want to be the acid to your baseless deflection from a relationship with me
So darling why won’t you make me the ventricle to every message from your atrium; a song of our love for one another,
I want to be the loud base clef to your symphony every time our hearts tremble,
With every moment we play the staccato we fill the phases of comfortable silence with our steady breathes
Can you not see the temporary psychotic state you’ve left in me?
Like Beethoven deaf to our music, our straight line on the EKG
Our happily never after, to a story that does not even belong to us
Because if I had any form of control baby we we we like a high school platitude
I would rearrange the alphabet and put ‘u’ and ‘I’ together
Teach you my language, my consonant sounds that make me ‘a’ ‘b’ when you seed me
Fertilise my being with your affection and love
Before I combust
Before I lose it
Before I give up and give in
To the random stutter that tells me that I should catch a hint!
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