Did you read it?
were you led to the water and fed it?
did you get it?
did you understand what was in my mind?
did you find any truth in the words that I said?
Did you read it?
I wrote it for you and the things that you do
when you tell me we're through
do you mean it?
After all of that stuff are you going to play tough
did you read it?
Am I banging my head against the factory wall
when you finish the shift will you wait
will you call?
did you read it?
Do I need to resign the designs that I hold?
are you really that cold?
Were the words that I wrote not enough?
Be rough I can take it
together we can make it
did you read it?
It's making me sick, answer me now and be quick
did you get it?
Take your pick
make it me
I'm dying
can't you see
did you read it?
Do I need this?
Can I find peace of mind, some place I can unwind?
Do I need this?
Whether you get it or not this is all I have got and it's my only shot at the goal.
If you don't see your role
as a mate it's too late
we'll call it a day and put it down to our age.
But
did you read the next page that I wrote?

Infatuation.
It’s a girthy, 5-syllable word and you’re
In a fat, juicy, situation.

It’s a swollen, darkened fruit
That begs to be taken completely,
Flesh devoured entirely.

But it’s a trap.

The sweet and tangy blood of it
That dribbles down your chin
To your neck
To your *******
To your heart
To your stomach
To your hips
To your groin
To your ***
Down your thighs
To your nervous toes
Is not love.

Nobody wants to hear that.

But some day
- If you are incredibly lucky -
You will look at your maroon-stained palms
And the dry, sticky rivers of years running down your wrists
And laugh until you cry when you realize
That you could wash your whole body
Because love is not in the juice.

It is not your addiction,
Your summer picking,
Your hungry belly,
Your well of adrenaline,
Your rushing of heartbeats,
Your tangling of bodies,
Your jealousy, yearning,
Nor pride.

If you are incredibly lucky
You will suddenly know love.
As silent, simple, and strong
As the fabric of the universe itself.

Stop being such a gentleman,
If you can help it,
and tell me explicitly,
that you want me to go
the f*ck away.