this flow of unfavorable words will not cease, not give some feeling of triumph over tragedy, not give a sense of relief or release, not stop whispering evil things if the silence lasts more than a second

i miss the one that got away, the ones that got away, the almost, the might have been, the not a chance in hells

which is funny because they all got away as fast as their pretty little feet could carry them, especially if it got too close to something more than the almost it never was

been cleaning the house, vacuuming the floors washing the countertops and scrubbing the stove

spent so much time screaming the words as i mopped the floor my voice cracked, not content to write too much, to think too much, but now forced to scream the words into the empty room

no more room

all gloom and doom

my tomb

this dessicated womb in which i curl up on the couch and cry and wheeze and feel like maybe it is all my fault

maybe it is

i don’t recall the words i spoke that drove her away, drove the one before away, maybe i missed my secret talent of being a chauffeur, my emotional response driving them all into another’s arms

i could charge for the trip, for building them up enough that they see i am not good enough for them, it is a secret technique of putting them first, their wants, their needs, their pain, their stories, them them them

i just steer the vehicle into oncoming traffic

i just turn up the music and drown out the sudden realization that this vehicle is a suicide machine, ignore the symptoms of systemic failure, organized organ failure and abject dismissal of the painfully obvious note of disinterest

so i stopped trying in hopes that you find what you need the moment you stop looking

a fallacy, a hope, a wish, a paradoxical dream of a dying daydreamer

that is the problem with hope, with just enough rope, eventually it falls apart

that is the issue with dreams, subconscious schemes, it all adds up to naught

now when i wake up from a dream where she and i were together i frantically try and fall back asleep into a new land, one where she is the one pining for me and we both know i am better than that

funny thing is even in my mind i know better

not funny haha, but funny don’t cry

not funny in the way that brings pleasure but funny in the way that it all comes crashing down and all you can do is dodge the wreckage and giggle because it is exactly what it is

what it is, not what you want it to be

not what you need it to be

the constant struggle to differentiate need from want from desire from truth

we make our own truth

we live by the word and we die by the meaning

two sides of the same coin

two lies

too many facts and not enough friction, diction, trapped in fictional recreations of childhood homes and playground theatre

the variables, variances and vortex of the cortex made mad by driving in the rain, dropping them off at the one they want, no fee, no bill, just another bounced checked signed by hearts and sealed with a kiss

sealed with a kiss good bye

my name is mike and i am your uber driver, destination anywhere but with me