You let me rub sawdust in your ears. You let me drip wax on your fingertips. You let me defenestrate your free time. You let me run my voice across your lips. You let me think I can. It is of my opinion that the basement here smells of expensive wood varnish and it reminds me of what you are supposed to be; an old thought. A grimy vexation. A copper colored conundrum, antiquated and nauseously green. I hate it when you waste time with me. You make me feel like we're worthless. Sitting alone in a stone darkness with both purple hazes hanging in the air like rhythmic skeletons strung up in a celebratory gallows. I'm happy when I'm with you, you two-penny ***** of wasted yourself. I love you. Now leave. Out of our lives. I would be happier if you were out of yourself. But you knew that.
I know a cedar chest of a hundred years and you are knees-to-chest inside; not dead but breathing through the keyhole in a white evening gown with your skin growing tighter against your ribs. One day I will open the chest and your blood will flow and your eyes will open and your skin will hang more loose under healthy fat and muscle and life and you may throw your arms 'round my neck and I will cry as I love your touch as you smile with joy as I take my hand and put it to your chest. Push. Down. Hard. You will not escape to make me love you. The latch will close and you will be silent, breathing through the keyhole, and I will not mourn. I will try not to mourn.
You are beautiful,Time. Why? You burn heart-shaped marks into the souls of lovers and whittle them away through yourself and that is horrendous yet you change not. Villain! A pox upon you for a clumsy lout! You must undress in simmering water for ramen or tea because you refuse to change until I look away. You make the voices of a hundred years past hiss and pop on gramophones because you didn't feel like sharing 2008's MP3s. Oh, you wretch, you curdle milk and Captain Crunch disapproves. You make car rides to Washington, DC unbearable. You masterfully draw out the suspense in waiting rooms, dangling gender verdicts of newborns over the heads of expectant fathers. You ****. You ridiculously unfair goblin. You murderer. You toyer of lives. You are so beautiful. You make life short so it matters. This hate is a necessary hate but so is my love for you. You will **** me one day. For that, I loathe every second you give me in your pitiful pity. I wish I could rip apart every second and return them to the sender and have them ignite on your doorstep and burn your house down and have you cry "I was only doing my job" as your home smolders to ashes. But right after I would buy you a nice dinner and tell you that it's going to be okay because you made some months of my life matter and enjoyable and happy. I might even admit to arson to make you smile or grimace. Time, you toothless wolf. You spineless snake. You stringless marionette. I love you.