is it disillusion or confusion, how did it come to this, facing hard truths and the lies seem just as bad

life is a cancer, we’re all just polyps, lesions, a legion of pus filled protrusions pinching a nerve

and the cure is no better than the symptom

i said the cure is no better than the symptoms

i’m strung out from this road of abandoned vehicles, leaving a trail of myself for the birds to peck away in hopes i get lost among the shuffle

weakened and weary

forsaken of dream

strung from the bare metal girders and swinging in the stagnant complacency of an ever shrinking window of time

i never told the truth of how i felt, be it out of fear or some morose understanding that she could never feel the same way back

that the distance was too much between my heart and hers even if we shared the same bed

she’s better untainted by reality

and the stains i leave on all that comes within my sweaty grasp

that i would give every cancerous cell of my failing body to make her life one bards would sing about

kneeling in supplication before her feet and kissing her ankles as tears stream freely down weather worn cheeks

wind burnt from the long search

following her scent on the desert wind, over mountains, through thick forest and across the swamps of languid solitude

only for her to turn and leave, arm in arm with a he that isn’t me and that i could never force myself to be

just a tumor rotting on a log in the middle of the highway

a deterrent for others marking there is no road home here, just a series of exchanges and razor sharp commentaries that lead back the way they came

blew out all four tires and the spare and leaving a glorious shower of sparks as i fight the wheel while trying to maintain a safe distance behind you

do you know in my head i read these to your ears with halted breath

murmuring the words in hopes of drawing your heart out of the castle keep

no

they fall deafly at your feet, deftly ignored through sheer will and a determination to wait until the right one comes along

never knowing i’m left handed and can never hit that ideal

never caring

ambidextrous yearning in a sickness filled cavern of solemn damnation

the wretched bastard of if everything else fails the fool will still be waiting

the second choice of second choices that you hope to never entertain

just spoiled meat to be served to the servants as you dine in grand fashion with the princes and dukes

ring the bell and i shall tumble across the room and share my pithy homespun humor in hopes you’ll laugh

my patchwork outfit of your discarded yesterdays hanging loosely from my body

a heart pinned to my chest, ragged and covered in filth

this life is just a cancer, and i dreamt that you were the cure

now i can’t tell if it is disillusion or confusion, wondering where it all went wrong

i must have written the directions while looking in the mirror, taken every wrong turn down a series of one way retreats

never saying i’m lost

just looking for you