-Enough Already

Just becasue I'm a nice guy, doesnt mean you can treat me like a doormat,

I'm a human being just like everyone else, you need to respect that!

for a split second,
the TV screen turned red,
followed by a shrill beep.
it was a small glitch,
too small to be noticeable,
so the television stayed.

the longer she watched it,
the more often it turned red,
the longer the high-pitched beep.
but she could never predict
when the glitch would happen,
and she waited for it to be normal.

eventually, she adjusted
to a perpetually red screen
and an irritating, shrill hum
until her friend came in,
asking why the screen was red
and where the noise was coming from.

she brushed it off,
claiming it was a glitch.
the screen stayed that way,
and the hum persisted.
her eyes slowly became weary,
and her ears started ringing.

her friend took her away.
her eyes and ears got a break,
and she saw a different screen,
one of many colors, showing life
in its beautiful and tragic moments.
she heard vivid, rich, musical voices.

she went back to her television,
exhausted, trying in vain to fix it,
but it would not change,
no matter how hard she tried.
questions bloomed in her mind
until it suddenly dawned on her.

this was never a glitch.
it was a complete malfunction.
her heart and head were pounding
as she held an antenna to her chest.
it weighed her arms down,
but she threw it across the room.

it crashed into the television,
and the screen went black.
the hum stopped, and all was quiet
except for her loud breathing.
she wept as relief washed over her
and she lay down, content at last.

long drive through summer nights
a ghostly salty smell nearby
a Polaroid of orion that your fingers trace
tears falling like a cascade on an uneven face

crinkles by your eyes are long gone
and your smile is only a memory stored
and you threw away your ring when you left the city
encaptured into a chrysalis of anonymity

new town, new place, unknown destination
sacrificed the name which your parents called you with proud once
in a state where your business is no one else's pain
and you're so grateful there's no familiar face

that's what's about running away
away from the hurt that left you astray
astray from the path that's your family's way
way into a place away from friends' solace

esther darling, I'm glad to see
your incandescent eyes in a serene epiphany
despite of the mediocrity
esther darling, this place was meant only for you to be.

She’s no longer the source of my prayer,
she’s no longer holding most of my care.
And I swear that I couldn’t really bear
her wear and tear that wasn’t fair.

Now I race with haste to get some space
from her taste and her lively face
which is now just slightly laced with a trace
of my want for us to discase.
She’s hard to replace
but no longer can I chase
and keep pace with such a cold case.

My eyes are stained red;
not from crying again,
but by the taste of an herbal hope.
Perhaps it’s better off left unsaid,
but the smell of dread is left dead
by the piquant flame to which I tread.
My head floats like a ghost
from this sweet green and purple.
With tasteful lips in supply,
and a rolled joy high in my mind,
I’ve forgotten what it was like to cry.

My sanguine speech seems slurred.
And I’m not crying anymore;
a toast to the flame-filled water.
It makes facing my regrets easier,
and it’s so easy to disappear when she’s near.
I never want it to be like before,
even though sometimes I wake up poor
on the floor from pouring my pores
into just trying to forget her.
But for her adoration I no longer implore,
I instead explore for ore within the lore
of another woman’s valor.
Now the thought of the touch from a one-time lover
smothers my past desire for her fire.

The tangy taste of love lost
has faded over with hoarfrost.
Each weekend, I distend my intentions
to bend my wants, to be blunt,
to punt my fronts, as I tend
to ascend with commonly dazed women.
I can deny that I see guilt in the bliss
that is built on meaningless kisses.
I’m not digging dirt with these hoes,
and we know that the marks on their
necks aren’t from mosquitoes.
And our souls stay open when our knees fold.
And no matter how many potholes I explore,
I don’t feel ******* deplored,
I adore pouring out my core.

I am different now.
I think that I’ve changed for the better,
but I know that I won’t be tempest-tossed,
no matter the cost.

I want for few, as you know:
be here with you and the snow.