Intolerance

I forgot the metaphor,
the poetic trickery that makes me seem
more important than I really am.
I stumbled from the paths I'd laid,
finding nothing in this banality
to drive pleasure from.

Childish mind, body and soul,
seeing through eyes as vacant as
the void between the stars,
bleeding dreams to repetitious dust,
building towers
to launch my failures from.

My core is breached.
I do not need to be this anymore.
That which I've chosen to retain
will always take itself away,
back to the deep and narrow
from whence it initially came.

If I could un-open this hole,
I'd bathe in the devouring blaze
to consume the hate I've saved for you
so you might finally see
that at the level molecular
I'm still dying for your dreams.

Stop telling me what you want me to be.

__________________
"I DON'T. Buy the tomatoes with. The stems. On them.
They don't. Degrade. They go. Down the sink. And
into the WATER. Then. They get lodged in the
throats of little. OTTERS."
- Christopher Walken