The powerful man
Pitchfork-armed, chasing the girl
Tine-first, ready to strike

She is today’s unfortunate rage object
Hapless, wrongless victim
Weaponless, shieldless casualty

He is blind privilege righteous
Incandescent from his
latest, baseless, graceless
gotcha!

Forehead veins pulse sickly blue-green
Gas giant magnitude pupils
Each aperture an onyx void
Irony in sympathetic nervous system arousal

If he can wound her
– really break her,
he will quiet that feeling
The one that creeps and gnaws
Whisper screaming
Especially at night

Impossible conscience
Poor Jiminy Cricket
Eyes sticky with tears
Best efforts in vain

How do we retain compassion?
Scaffold empathy?
Bolster sanity?
While absorbing the violence
Of the man who flattens his beer cans
   with a hydraulic pancake car crusher
who cuts his delicate finger sandwiches
   with a restored 1790s guillotine
who sets his table
   with longsword steak knives
   and matching pitchforks
   a set, for special occasions

Vast energy required to remain soft
When distant and diamond hard
Is the path of no resistance

All this energy
Feels wasted
Why can’t we collect it?
Battery store it?
Pitchfork narcissist anode
Empath cathode
Could power a city
Energy crisis solved

We tend to extract the- 
complexity out of the mouth of simplicity,
counting till 10 is a necessity. 
But remains a struggle
in times of words nascency.
Trust me it's not a matter of literacy. 

You lack the visibility of our daily-
neurological battlefields
at the front line, we remain helpless and shieldless.

We're not pulling the triggers.
once shot at, can't be taken back
don't blame our mouths for shooting opinions -
blame an intuition that knows all the facts 

Wittiness comes at a price. 
Friend, I am sorry that you have to pay the bills, sometimes

Another cup of coffee.
Please.
I need to wake up.
The night’s dreaming has left me
disjointed.

surprised

to be alive.

It’s not the first time.
Not at all.
I’ve lived in the nightmarish dark
far too long,
far too often.
I am experienced in blindness,
swinging my sword at ghosts,
shieldless save for God.
Each day new wounds bleed.
Each day new wounds heal.

And so here I am.
A decade and more later,
a collector of scars,
a strange sort of warrior,
living in the half light.

These emotions are powerful they surge right  through my chest
Chasing them around room they suddenly infest
First silent as they swirl between you and I
It doesn't take long for them to multiply
Soon they swarm every object we see
Easy to play victim instead of trying to agree
But there are zero casualties because we aren't at war
Blindness makes me wonder what we're doing this for
You think righteously but you couldn't be more wrong
Baseless accusations you build argument upon
Just the latest in series of false beliefs you create
Sick the way your perspective chooses to exaggerate
My veins get so hot blood begins to boil
Shieldless facing remarks insisting I'm not loyal
Onyx pupils boring holes my direction
Void between us growing as you describe each imperfection
Systematically pulling apart every sentence dared to speak
Pre-existing wounds deepening until blood starts to leak
Until becoming so quiet you could hear our hearts beating
Slowly breaking
Carefully retreating
Uneasiness creeping like a draft under the door
Whispering
"Things never will be as good as they were before"
These helpless doubts wander through skull all night
Impossible questions kept awake til morning's light
Until poor soul is weighed down by despair
Tears blur my vision
Uncertainty put into my stare
My worrying in vain because it doesn't change anything
Non-existent compassion in your movements and it stings
Apparently don't have enough empathy to spare
Tangle up sanity by showing how little you care
While absorbing tension permeating air like a sponge
Hopes now flattened on the floor where they plunged
Words discarded like empty cola cans
Insults echoing like clang of pots and pans
From head to toe happiness is now crushed
Cuts could heal if only our fingertips brushed
Delicate balance of respect instantly would be restored
Neck removed from guillotine if you'd lower your sword
I don't encourage tables to turn
Just want us to both sit down
Pull knives out each other's backs and erase each frown
I wish us both to wear matching expressions of joy
Our feelings reset to a setting where our opinions didn't annoy
But for that to happen a gigantic amount of willpower is required
Fear we are not soft enough for animosity to permanently retire
But honestly hate distance between skin more than I'll ever admit
The path our steps are walking on is one I refuse to quit
I'll pour more energy into every single action I do for you
Even wasted at least my intentions are true
I'll collect memories and box up special moments we had
Store somewhere deep within to bask in when I'm sad
This might be hard this second but I have faith it won't last long
We can solve problems because our love is pure and strong