Crash

My hands are frozen

Trying to string together two words, has never been as frigid as this

Something is amiss

My body feels like it been spoiled in piss

Like I’m a willing partner in an S&M flick

This is bullshit that I have to feel this way

This is bullshit that she always does this to me

I thought the flame was smothered

The embers lay emboldened

Emblazoned and brazen waiting for a spark

What it got was a match

Though a time bomb it was not

Every word still hurt

Every work unspoken leaves our relation tattered and broken

And frayed and dismayed in ways repairs could take days

Weeks, months, years this continues

I think I’m going to need the wine menu

‘Cause this ain’t it

It’s not getting it

It’s not working

I’m hungry for a revolution

A resolution a grievances

‘Cause my resolve is waning

And my endurance is tanking

And I got to deal

With this raw deal I’ve been dealt

I can’t keep waiting for the for the googolplex clock to stop

I can’t keep wait for the second ball to drop

Rapture.

Why would such a woman exist?

Why would such a merciful god place blame and curse for blasphemies not yet relieved from my skin?

I do not believe that such a man would create such a woman

I do not believe that a man would set a series of situations solely meant to siphon the sensibility that he has so sanctimoniously sanctioned upon thee

I know that I am right; even if I am wrong I am right

There is no man above sightseeing in the clouds

Crying tear to create floods

Clapping jovially to move mountains

Striking in anger at what his own hands have created

I do not know…

Better yet I don’t want…

I need to know why such a woman would breathe

Why such a woman would have the ovarian fortitude as to impose such regulations that regular people can not see through the red tape

Why won’t she let me in?

How the did the imaginary man?

Where did this journey begin?

Where did I lose her?

Who cut the cables?

Why are we not able to see past the prior inquisitions to see to a less tumultuous future.

To see to a movement,

Cooperation

Restitution

The imaginary man gave us lips to speak but we not use them but for treachery

He gave us hearts but not to use them, rather keep them empty to filter the fantasies and poison seeds

Rival memories of black books

Murderous penguins

Lifeless angels.

I can say that I hope for the best but that would be a lie

It’s not right for the night imaginary inflammatory impostor to take credit for the beginning of this being if he not willing to take the solder of his own smoldering brimstone.