She knows how sharp her words cut through me. Yet she does not cease. She knows how I long for peace. Yet she does not let me sleep. She knows my disdain is true and tried, yet she does not hide her pride. She knows these things because I tell her. For no secrets are left unshared.
Sometimes these things happen with no warning. A loved one lost. The consequence of a bad decision finally coming back to get revenge. It’s beautifully erie, isn’t it? How we think we know where the wind will blow, and yet, it cares not what we presume. She will wait until we are certain we are lost. Then, she comes in for the kill.
The mentally insane leading the mentally insane. A catastrophe. Blasphemy and ridicule in the 1st degree. A true act of heroism. But don’t forget about DADT. If you never ask me my secrets, I’ll never tell. If you never repent you’re going straight to hell. Right? Wrong. I think this is a game of pong. A lost art and a new blue boy under the pillow who is silently ill. Like the sick, rich thrill I get from hearing you shrill as I take back the words I never said. And with this trajectory we can clearly see where the bullet entered his head and took away the life he loosely led.
It’s like something a little worse than a cold. It’s like a jagged pill, a little too rough to swallow, much like the truth. It’s something that makes my stomach feel a little too empty to bare for comfort. It’s the thought that keeps me up at night, the reason my insomnia has peaked to a whole new level. It’s the reason my thoughts are racing, the reason my medication no longer eases my anxiety. It’s the reason I call you everyday. The fear that is waiting around the corner of the unknown. The things that keep me up at night, the things that worry me the most. These things are not in my control, for they are nothing I can ever pray away. These things that keep me up at night, that keep me staring at the ceiling when I know I should be asleep, that keep my heart beating a little out of rhythm, that keep me on the edge of my seat never letting me rest completely; these things are you.
You bend me over like the west of the winscott hierarchy. I think this mask is wearing thin. While I am wearing thick. I settle into this despair with open arms. I need no pharmacy to calm my insecurities. I’ll wear them well and relinquish my hold on you. I ponder the impurity in my ways. I set you up for failure as I set the alarm off and await my consequence. I bask in the glory of smothering you with these pillows of lies and betrayal you fill so full. Plump as ever, and yet empty and bare. I see these mirrors and rage embodies my whole self. I am unsuccessfully assuring myself this is good for creativity and bad for my soul. But I don’t trust myself when I’m alone. These thoughts wreak havoc on me. I see images of gruesome scenes flash before my eyes. I desperately want to look away, but curiosity has once again maimed the cat. Rendered helpless under this hollow moon of shallow conquests.
A penny for your thoughts or a dollar for your insides? I’m a secret left in the closet. A hope you hold in your locket. A heart beating left unheard. I think of you more often than a widow with a dirty secret. Knowledge of the unknown. Killer who stole her husband away. Will she ever sleep again. Alone. Not this time for a year of lust. She wears that frown so well. A damsel set for destruction. Overload of misogyny and lies whispered in round corners. I flaunt at the idea of fainting for funerals. A dime a dozen and a penny for your pleasure. Frequent flyer miles are accepted. All boarding, deceit and domination. Please, don’t be so shy and submissive.
Repeat. Of how I felt years ago. Oh I worry. Of you. More of me. The thought of not having you here…to call every morning. To seek advice. I tremble at the thought. You call so often now, as if you know how hard it is for me to talk to you. At least, when you’re frozen in time like..this. This man. This man I talk to way too loud. This man I explain myself to more times than necessary. I think I won’t be okay this time. I need you here. Not the flesh. Not the meat suit that wears your clothes. No, for he is not you. My, ..my. I can not find the words I need. I need you. Where do I go without the yang to my ying? Without my guardian? Without,. my Father? I try my best to ignore your calls. To ignore this situation as it sits. I do not seek attention, but rather a distraction. From where I sit now. In life that is. For a life without you is not one I want to imagine. And you thought I didn’t need the anxiety medicine. Pshh, I need it more now than ever. I need you to know how much you have made me the person I am today. I would not be here without you. I am lost, still, now. Waiting for you to come back to me. I know you’re in there somewhere. You have to be. Because if you are not, I am already gone.
Let the silence embellish our worries with sin. I look at how hard I try. It sickens me as I think of how fast my mind goes and how you can’t keep up. I see this color. On my nails, my hair, my skin. It saddens me to think how I’ve changed. If only you could see under this scarred flesh. This facade. These words don’t come out right but I stumble on what I really want. This lust and hatred. It’s a tainted potion. I don’t practice witchcraft but I am a master in destruction. I specialize in self destruction. You bring that out in me. Isn’t it grand? This control you have over me? This ruthless need for me to hear your voice. Seek your approval.
I find you peculiar in ways I see myself as an issue. I am not the answer you’re searching for darling. Remind me again to tell you my life story though I do not trust you just yet. I think you’re in over your head my love. I think not. For me to be in over my head I must first have a head to be in over. I’m mad as a hatter but sold as a child of this institution. I know not of God but of this world. Is there a problem? The solution will never be in you. Or in me. But rather it is unknown until it is seen. Ever heard of believing without seeing? A task for fools I’m sure. I’m nervous when I make you uncomfortable. This is not my intent rest assured. I think I see too much of me in you. I overcompensate for my fucked up past by asking you too many things I wonder about myself. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay. You see, there is a gap, a blank space, a missing chunk of my life where I need to find the missing puzzle pieces. This game of psychology I play is more for me. See a therapist you recommend? Oh I think not. I find you far too curious about me. What answers are you seeking and why would you think I have them. Stored away for safe keeping. These cold chills I get are less of the weather affecting me and more of your affect on me. I say things I mean and never say things I don’t mean. The trouble I find myself in is when I don’t ask the things i want to and instead keep my intentions hidden from you because I’m afraid of your judgement.
I think of you like an art project. One where I can never seem to decide on the finishing touches. Just as I think, “oh, this’ll do” I find myself doubting and wishing there was an undo button once more. You shudder under my skillful hand. Uncertain of my next move. Will I be merciless, or take pity once more and let you get a head start. I squander at the thought of you escaping. Is this what crazy feels like? Being loose and unraveling in public for pleasure? Oh the agony. The only thing more deliberately disgusting than my obsession, is your refusal to my offer. I see I have more work at hand before you’ll give in and let me have my way with you. What you forget my dear is, I have all the time in the world. This ungodly place is best suited for this kind of betrayal. And so, I wait. Lurking in the darkness of my own misogynistic disgrace.