Hand write
                   ( Hands right
                                  Sinistral kid)
Me a love poem.
                   (A sonnet?
                             Whatever)
Make me feel like a queen,
                   (Like Joanna of Castile?
                              I know who she is, you ****)
Like I am worshipped and adored.
                   (Like Imelda Marcos then?
                              I have more shoes)
Make my heart flutter
                   (Arrhythmia
                              Whatever)
And swell until it bursts.
                   (Be careful what you wish for
                               ......................)
Treat me like a princess
                   (Shanti Rajya Lakshmi Devi
                               I've Googled her as well)
And make all my dreams come true.
                   (I dream of a loaded gun.
                              So you can **** me?)

"No, just myself.

All I want is for you to ******* feel something".

I gave you a chocolate bar last night.
As if that could soften the blow of divorce.

A divorce that hits,
With all of the force
Of things that came before
the last few scenes
Of this remorseful divorce.

I invited you to breakfast.
As if eating cancer inducing bacon with our children,
Will close this void.

A void that has grown,
As you try to avoid
Eye contact with the man who annoyed,
But was gravely ill
And took no joy
As his marriage became
This hideous void.

I love the smell of freshly signed divorce papers in the morning (sic).

Under the bitter sunshine,
You had to beg me to be still.
Still I could not contain my thoughts
Of how all these things had come and gone.

So, people the boards with those who play their parts,
Those who no longer want to feel strong.
We wither under your watchful gaze,
We crumble under your wrath and scorn.

We didn’t choose to have our hearts
So empty, yet so full of dirt.
I didn’t want to drink my weight
In this poison of my father’s choice.

Now as we lay in broken beds,
Not alone, but still apart,
I will dream upon that summer’s day
And lament the loss of your civility.

So maybe you deserve better?
So maybe I'm just the same.

And does it make you feel clever,
For letting go of things
That made you important?
This feeling has to die.
I never wanted this and I didn't want to try.

It's not the gun that's the killer,
It's the bullets deep inside
Of the heart that is poisoned
And you're screaming all the time.
I'd rip my own skin off to make your feelings mine.

I'm not staring, I'm just asleep.

I'm not staring, I'm just a sheep.

I'm not crying, my eyes began to flood.

I'm not bleeding, this blood is ******* mud.

Just straight repeats are playing
In the darkness.
"Beat me" proceeds burnt out,
******* wisdom.

Broken, beat-up, second hand,
Used emotions,
Carve grooves and ruts so deep
On fractured psyches.

"Don't you want to turn it off now,
Take their hands and give them cleaning?"

"Don't you want to burn the house down,
Gather ashes and give life meaning?"

There once was a hamster who was not there,
He was not really anywhere.

He scurried and burrowed and chattered and crawled,
I swear I could hear him inside of my walls.

He crept all around and even whispered to me,
"I know your dark secrets, but they're safe as can be".

The hamster was growing, bigger, unkind,
Using as food, the thoughts in my mind.

I started to hate his vicious demeanour,
As he grew fatter, my soul grew leaner.

I devised a great plan to end his existence,
A quite dark plan, that needed persistence.

I cleaned my handgun and put one in the chamber,
Raising it to my head, my breathing was laboured.

A tear stained note, was pinned to my chest,
Just one final thing before I could rest.

With one last, great push, I pulled the stiff trigger,
Safe in the knowledge he would grow no bigger.