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I threw you out and rejected your love,
So why are you hounding my thoughts,
My days and nights?
Tossing and turning,
Shaking and shifting...
I pushed you away,
So why do I care If you live or die?
I will play the monster in this piece,
And you will be the Victim.
You will carry the burden,
And I - on my shoulders : atrocities will be borne.
I don't want the support,
I just want a piece of understanding.
Not yours, or mine, you see,
But why... when I can only guarantee rejection when it's found.
Who could explain the paradox of this social animal,
Whose shackles chafe and grind down over my heart so?
A breakdown of communication between the heart and heart's will.
It's not a new story.
It's not even personal.
It belonged to the ear hidden by the lock,
To the holes in the walls and the leering eyes that they conceal.
It belonged to the minstrel who sang it,
And brought maidens to tears.
It belonged to the blind beggar who bore sole witness
To the blinding light of salvation and lies burnt - a cripple.
It belongs to the headlines on pages scattered
By the wind across the sidewalk and onto the streets
Where we used to walk.
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Did you see the evening malady?
It crawled into every nook and cranny,
Making headlines in the lowlights
For sunken barflies and mindful wishes -
To ponder aimlessly and be pondered upon
Almost soulfully.
What's your gripe?
Could it be your wife?
The roof over your million dollar head,
The empty crib for a baby playing for dead?
The alcohol in your drug infused veins;
The beaten horse which pulled your reigns;
The wife you loved - stolen away in the velvet night;
The opportunity lost due to thoughtful foresight?
Deep, smooth, sexy blues of sirens on mythical shores,
Lights from cameras - prying apertures in droves.
The burning hand,
The running sand.
The soothing sigh,
The day you die.
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