Not talking to you for so long
Is a sad thing to endure
But now I know of something else
That pains me even more:

That moment when I speak to you
And realize then and there
That if we never talked again,
I wouldn't really care.

If feelings were colors,
Right now mine would be
The empty black vacuum of space
The panicky bright red of unexpected blood
And the greenish gray of an oncoming storm.

If feelings were temperatures,
Right now mine would be
The cold of slimy, shivering fever sweat
And the phantom heat of a third degree burn

If feelings were expressions,
Right now mine would be
The long and horrified scream of Edvard Munch
And the agonized tears of Rachel weeping for her children

If feelings were weather,
Right now mine would be
A shrieking hurricane of acid rain
A night choked with fog so thick you can't see
And the hopeless burning nothingness of a desert afternoon

If feelings were words,
Right now mine would be
Probably very close to the ones you just read . . .

This poem was only written to
Create a meter and a rhyme
There is no deeper meaning here,
So if you don't like wasting time
On mindless drivel, here's your hat
Because this poem is just that!

No wellsprings of emotion flow
Nor subtle allegories preach
Within these empty, patterned words -
I have no wish to moan or teach
Go somewhere else for love or fear
Because you will not find it here.

Now to apply some filler words
Like catnip, ice cream, roller rink,
Because I have no words to speak
And do not wish to feel or think.
I told you you were wasting time
Upon tetrameter and rhyme.

Everyone takes the blue pill*
What was it you said once?
Security before morality and
The necessity of self-delusions.
But here's the thing:
How do you know that the red pill
Isn't just some wild acid trip
And the blue pill is the one
That keeps you in reality?

Two once-bittens circling the elephant in the room:
you blunder around in my china cabinet
and I hide in your church, timid as a mouse.