Three days ago
I painted a portrait
Born from your vitriol and presented it to you
In a rusted metal frame
But you didn't see it

Two days ago
I broke into song
Berating your own scarlet red eardrums
The window wide open
But you didn't hear it

Just yesterday
I pounced on your back
My ironclad vice rattling your sullied skull
Chest pressed against spine
But you didn't feel it

How can this be?
You are not blind
Nor are you deaf
I know well that you taste
Mournful ministrations
Of touch

The pain, the pain
O’ dear agony, my brain!
I spread across sheets
Soaked, lapped up, re-soaked,
And stained

Tonight
I turn my bed to coffin
Because of you
Since now I understand
You just never cared