the wall

there are three or four poems in this.

you bring misery upon yourself, like a self-inflicted plague, sitting there high upon that shelf in bright packaging that is sure to fade. you try to attract the men with your honey, never understanding why they fly away they get their fill, their hunger quenched, then leave you to work while they go with the boys to play. you wish the tears didn't come when you close your eyes, and that you didn't breakdown as much as you do, but nothing has ever been the same since that stupid asshole left you. and; i wish you knew how to be self-sufficient and content with the blessings you have known. i wish you knew how to nod and smile and not to take the lies you are shown. i wish you knew when to stop and listen and how to loudly scream the word no. but mostly i wish that you would stop looking for perfection and that it's ok to be alone. one day i will learn to shut my mouth. i promise. on that day i will stop stumbling along on my own ignorance, like the whore that i am. until then please forgive the scrapes and bruises i cause on other people as i slip and bring them down with me. i'm just so glad it's over. why yes, that is my head on the floor. screaming because she's furious. please don't do that to her anymore. the end was supposed to feel so good. the coming down of three hundred highs. but it doesn't feel like it should. again, nothing goes right. i will kill you in your sleep, and you will think you are dreaming. when you wake up we will breathe your dying breaths together, knowing only one of us is living, and that the other is leaving. you will thank me thank me thank me for being there, by your side, one last time, as you die, in your last moments of passion. in your last fit of stupidity. i shall play the savior, play the superhero, play the martyr, one more time before that final curtain call-just like you wanted. and, ironically, you will die applauding, calling out for an encore. you'll die for this-for us-for me-for something more… because i'm going to kill you in your sleep. goodbye, i said to no one, because it means the end. i never have said all i wanted to you. we never shared all of our secrets, fears, or goals. now this finish line we've been running towards for so long has come up sooner than we all thought it would, and words have been left unsaid. like goodbye. we broke promises to each other, we lied and stabbed and cheated and stole, but now as we move in different directions, we want nothing but to be close. the irony isn't lost on me, the bitter fact that i want to hold on to something that most the time was just a waste. but when i had nothing else to look forward to, i still had you. or when i had everything more important to do, i still had you. and now when i need nothing and everything to be still for a few minutes, you’re leaving. so. goodbye. in case you didn't know: it was fake from the beginning. we answered a problem with a lie, and now we've ended with a dream. we do not fear death, because we are the ones who created this false reality. and as ignorant mortals who pretend to be godless do, we constantly find ourselves transfixed with the mirror. i wish i could tell you that i know how superficial the life you lead has always been and that i could reveal to the foolish-naive-willing-victimized world just how often you lovingly stare into your made up lying reflection.{to think that you so often deny that you dream of being (merely) beautiful and perfect and flawless and numb...} i know you lay idly under your godly sun, wishing away your striking imperfection. i know that you do not notice how utterly ungraceful your tinted shadows tend to be or how truth is most accurately conveyed through unhidden scars. i've watched you, painted gold and bronze, sitting among shadows, crying moaning sobbing pitying yourself for wasting and wanting when in the darkness no one can see the halo you have stuck above the crown. you lament over your past and how you received the scars you now so well hide, never realizing that you've only brightened the rips and tears in your persona, and then wonder how i am quick to find these answers in highlighted passages. does this 'mystery' really elude you? you? with your over analytical mind? {your eyes give everything away.}your past, your present, your future. where you have hidden your history, when you are going to run away, how you can't hide all the scars. don't sulk because i noticed. don't avoid me because i know. it's not my fault you can't express your problems, besides the word "nothing," after being asked what was wrong or going on. it's not my problem that they've learned to give up. but what do you expect them to do when you pout and hide? take pity on you and fix your broken toy, you child, so you can break it again? {that's not the real world. and you know it. stop acting like it is.}do i not always sympathize with you when no one else will? and now, when i have not, you make me feel guilty and fuck with my head? is this how you repay me for being there for you, listening to your problems, trying to cheer you up? and where is this new point of view on my issues, my posing, my friends, my beliefs, my condemnation coming from, oh possessive one? have you felt this way all along? don't be angry with me when i won't take that bullshit. don't punish me and make me apologize when i'm the one who should be offended because you are able to get your way over and over again.{and that attitude-belief-behavior, dear heart, is written all over your eyes-your-face-your-soul.} these warning signs deem you a dangerous hazard, and it's becoming obvious i need to learn how to stay away. these witnesses, they volunteered your information how you cause the accidents and make such scenes i've listened to their point of views on your issues, your posing, your friends, your beliefs, your condemnation. i've heard where they're coming from. i have actually listened to both sides.{and the subject of your sanity has come up more than once.} you're going to try and make good decisions. you're going to try not to get hurt or burned. you're going to go back down that well worn path, and stumble over the same rocks you have before. then you're going to dodge the consequences; hide and crawl into a different skin; only to go down in the same way, in the same pattern over again. maybe i’m naïve, and never think these things through. maybe i’m ignorant, for thinking i need you. because i’m a liar, a fool, a bitch, a whore. you sold me nothing but i’m still coming back for more. your innocent grief/value/belief/need drag me down without even wanting to lead. you never gave me this. i took it on my own. then i wonder why i care, when i'm sitting alone. maybe i’m blind. i know that i’m ill. maybe i’m too hopeful, because i bend to your will. and you’re willing to let me go? to never have what i can’t give? i sold you my soul, now you’re letting me live? i’m too damn tired of holding up this wall. my real me is showing, and you're just letting me fall. i should just forget it, just let everything go as three times predicted, but something continues to tell me no--and i know i’m addicted. i’m bored and i’m tired and i’m dying in vain. i’d ask you were you think we’re going but i know it won’t have a name. so excuse me when i think that this hopeless and lame. i’m vain and i’m tired and i’m bored as hell. i can breathe you in but i can’t remember your sight, sound, or smell. won’t you excuse me if i think that you shouldn’t have fell. i’m bored with my vanity and tired too. it will only be so soon until i will end like you, and, excuse me if i can’t be as strong as you do.