Time (III)

I can see
that you're still doing just fine,
or so you think to yourself,
which may be a crime.
And as the cycle approaches nine,
all that's left is time.
I can see
you still color inside the lines,
and you still take time
for others' lives. Just not mine.
Not last time, not this time.
No, never mine.
But that's not a crime.
Just out of place

and out of line.

No Virtuoso

Sometimes
I just sit
and ponder
in absolute
amazement
at how completely
fucking
brilliant
I really am.
But every time,
after several minutes
and without fail,
I begin to realize
that I am actually
quite moderate.
I remember that
I am no virtuoso
and that you
half-baked sows
are all just
out to lunch.
Very
fucking
out to lunch.

Letter Y

Two years I've held my breath, with two times the effort you put forth. Two words and you walked away. So breathe, because today's the day that I make you pay. I've written it all down for you, so you'll see it coming. But regardless, you'll never escape your unbecoming. I will end you here today. Today's the day you have last words to say, since you'll never see tomorrow anyway. Today's the day. Two years I've held my breath, with two times the effort you ever gave. Today's the day I finally exhale and dig you a shallow grave. And to be perfectly honest, it no longer matters why. Hush, my dear, please don't cry. It's just that today's the day you die. Today I give you two goodbyes, one for each year, and one more goodbye for each you're not here. I'll never see your face on other faces, or remember us ever going places. I'll make every little detail untrue. I'll never remember you. Today's the day. Today's the day I leave you instead. Two more minutes and you'll be dead. Today's the day, after all you said, that I leave you for fucking dead. Hush, my dear, please don't cry. Say goodbye, because today you die.

Letter X

There's no more Seattle, so the rain comes here instead. No hope for tomorrow, and none for today. And there's no more Seattle because you only lied when you said there's hope for tomorrow, and hope for today. In a past now forgotten, you had drawn a visage of villainy in your kin. It grew like a sickness and spread. In a past never begot, yet foregone, a nightmare of memories once been had birthed a persuasion in my head. Now we've grown tired, withered and old. You've grown weary of vindictive remarks, and I can't escape my staggering failure. Now I've grown tired, bitter and cold, and so frustrated since we never embarked that my dreams implode without closure. So many years ago, when we were young, you had self-centered, selfish suggestions and petty, little plans all from the start. So many years ago, it should have stayed undone, and my dear two years, there's no question, ruin began to grow in your gold brick heart. Now there's no more Seattle, so the rain comes here instead, no hope for tomorrow, and none for today. And there's no more Seattle because you only lied when you said there's hope for tomorrow, and hope for today.