Forty-five past midnight.

So much time spent weeping
How can there be tears left?
~' There is not...
You sent me a message
on amplitudes of the wind,
winding down the extended
corridors of my heart,
narcissisticly postulating
your determined arrival date.
Expecting your royal welcome.
I have none...
I have simply forgotten.
I have forced myself to forget,
Since you have consistently forgotten.
So here I stand, with a dagger in my hand
ready to commit the ultimate crime of shame,
allowing myself to be ready for you,
forgetting what is true,
that I can never see you.
But let me remind myself
of what I'm here to do.
Remember what it means to love,
and silently live through.

C-a-g-e-s spell disaster

Supremely naive was i,
to believe i could free myself
from whatever fate had allowed for me.
But amidst all the turmoil
and confusion of locked doors
I managed to finally understand the
intoxicatingly familiar taste of liberation.
No physical release,
but the mental and emotional situation of these.
I just had to drown myself for a bit.

Tell me the instance...

...when you arrive.
Wait! Was that something you forgot to say?
Was I a fool to believe you'd never turn away?
I cannot believe this is something real.
I cannot understand the impersonal nature of this.
I've felt alone
when I refused to infer this emotion.
I'm not your mock child,
Neither am I your whipping boy.
float away in your 24 foot rig,
act as though this is a simple misunderstanding
and you're not here to understand me.
It's okay, I'm prone to accept these casual inflictions
of apathy on my consciousness.
Can you tell me how to react?
Can you explain how this works on my overall ethic?
You realize I'm your little mirror,
A reflection of your casual glances westward where I am dying.
You have every right to inspire me,
and to drive me.
So much used potential,
so much wasted kinetic.
It's okay, I'll deliver this anger with humility.