It's hard to breathe in your stony silences.
Everything feels so hopeless and overwrought.
I know you want me, except you don't.
You want something from me, at least. Just not me.
I guess we're the same you and I.
I want something from you too. Just not you.
Sometimes I try to talk about it and you throw it back in my face.
What I'm asking for is the reason I'm not getting it.
Other times, I try to ask you questions. I want to know
What is going on with you? I want to understand
Why? Why are you treating me with such cavalier abandon?
Why are you yelling, hitting, hurting me so bad?
Why don't you love me?
It's oppressive in your stony silences.
We communicate like warriors do battle.
You wage a stealthy guerilla warfare
Hiding in the bushes or behind your iron mask.
Attacking when unexpected and running when I attack.
I'm so shell-shocked that I keep playing along,
my better sense, severely wounded, went AWOL.
I can't breathe in your stony silences.
At my most vulnerable, the words I utter
drop like stones to shatter unheard at your feet;
maybe i could put some lotion on them for you?
Aching for a touch, any touch, my slavish devotion
was the only salve for a lust that was far more emotional
than sexual - don't touch me! - cuddle me more!
You also said I need to "just let things happen"...
How can I when my every move is decreed
by the electric fence that confronts me at every turn?
Yes, i know why the caged bird sings
and plucks its plumage bloody...
I can see the shreds of my sanity powdering all the surfaces
like so many nail filings, and fearing inaction (or infection),
I warned you. My patience is finite. No response.
The echoes are growing thicker in my head.
Cotton balls in my veins and aspirin isn't helping anymore.
I won't breathe in your stony silences.