Different face
Same situation
Different words
Same meaning
I'm tired of rejection
Tired of giving my all only to be tossed aside
What more do you want from me
My heart
You have that
My soul
You own that
My body
You've possessed that
So why do you continue to hurt me
Torment me with your silver tongue
Only to pullback and leave me disappointed
There's nothing left for me to give
I guess I'm just not enough to make you stay

Maybe I’m a wind-up toy robot, blindly walking down this path,
maybe I’m a pullback toy car, moving forward by taking a few
steps back. Maybe I’m a box of random Lego pieces, building up
a life, without an instruction manual, maybe I’m just a firecracker,
exploding with less passion – so I sometimes add fuel.

Maybe I’m the one trapped in the castle; quietly hoping the world
doesn’t see a man battling his own dragons, as a damsel, maybe I
don’t know how to fight for myself, cos I was shown that fighting
as a believer isn’t a good example.

Maybe I’m looking for love, just because everyone seems to be  
falling in love, maybe I’m trying to fit my hand in everything,
to protect myself from failure – wearing all the title gloves.

Maybe, maybe, maybe – but all the maybes aren’t always the
possibilities we want. So maybe I should instead be more definite
on all the needs I want.

Empty cough drop wrappers cover the passenger floor mat
as I veer into the other lane, nearly causing an accident.

I deserved that *******.

Cough drops are romantic lies,
apologies to unretractable insults,
Promises to change the direction of gravity.

Malaria carrying mosquitos
  dying in shallow spider pits,
Arachnophobia carrying spiders
  dying in shallow human fits.

There's often beauty in nasty things:

in,
the tingle of concussion's metallic taste,
or of licked ****** electricity,
  or of sweet antifreeze flicking off a poor
  cats unknowingly poisoned
  curious-tongue,

in happiness somehow felt
  in life's loneliest hours.

in the fond & fleeing feel of freedom in weightlessness,
  the sedation of time,
  the **** of sensations,
  the last painless moment felt as your car
  tumbles down hill,
  out of control before wrapping around an
  adolescent redwood.

In life's darkest moments,
happiness
and peace
and serenity,
  can thrive.
Yet, within serenity also thrives disassociation:

… the tickling silence of tide pullback, exposing rock & reef, before Poseidon's tsunami blooms in.

… the isolated ear-ringing of an angry mob's buzzing cacophony as pathological panic seeps in, following the first & only restful moment between fighting for life,
and giving up.

…the happiness hidden in frostbite's burning warmth and the euphoria of stabbing the ******* clown she used as a grinding post to destroy a decade of hard work before reality sets-in and actions birth consequences‽

**** me in the back of your car,
untinted windows,
let anyone see.

Screaming streams of headlights shine stars in my welling eyes and I can't believe you don't want me any more.

Erik Svarr
21:54 Mar 15, 2015
Highway 880 Frontage Road
Oakland, Ca.