“Don’t delude yourself into thinking
That you’re not at fault.”, she’s at the cusp.
“You keep saying I’m the only one
Who carries the burden of blame,
Because she did nothing wrong.”, blindly she retaliates.
“She’s just as wrong.” She repeats herself
For the seventh time, “But your shit smells just as strong.”
But she, she’s fucking crazy in the goddamned brain.”,
Quickly, he points out the spaces she took giant dookies,
He can’t acknowledge the fact
That he’s diarrhea-ed all over the place.
“Your argument is that she is a child,
But your methods are the same. You reciprocate.
There are always better ways.”, she pointedly says.
“So it’s okay when she does it,
But when I do it, suddenly, I’m the villain?
What is this communism?”
She ignores the last comment,
Responds, “I never said it was okay,
My point has been that you, her, and I
Bear the responsibility of this situation.”
“Yeah OkAy, Okay. It’s all my fault.
She did nothing wrong.”, she readily turns away.
“You think that this is the ultimate form of an argument,
You think you’re winning by trying to elevate your position
By pompously pretending to agree. But what you are doing
Just shows you can’t be reasoned with,
That you just don’t want to listen,
But all you have to do is look,
Can you just poop in the toilet please?”
Documentations shatter previously held beliefs.
He’s apologetic, but fate has the situation escalating,
She escapes, while laying stiffly in bed, the neighbors complain,
While they continue flinging each other’s belongings
While airing their dirty laundry.
While she thinks about how she might be unable
To make her promise a reality.
“Shut the fuck up,
The neighbors went as far as to ring the door bell
But you guys are fucking arguing still.
Edited movie scenes,
Filmed when the moon’s glow
Illuminated deformities and insane
Skeletal ghouls flying out from twisted trees,
Magically took place of forgotten chroma keys.
There was a fenced in character,
Rendered immobile by knotted ropes
That spent time
Trying to escape in vain,
When they learnt enough
At the curdling deep end
Of some story about
This kind of reviled love
They never wanted
Motives thrown into the dark,
Differences in intended talks
Given a perfunctory glance in brevity,
Grievous deceptions on rear backs,
Wounded, stitches healed, those scarred,
Persuasions in illicit exaggerations
Lost to authorizations, collaborated religiously,
Bleak futures surmounted as disregard,
Thrown out from nth storied buildings,
Where lasted love prevailed, despite
Reordered sigmas, regardlessly.
The course of virtual realities
Held steady streams in glistening purities
That belonged to deluded deities;
Their wrongs, unacknowledged.
Because their temples
Must have been of
Than those considered to be
Being duped by ignorances
By their own arrogances,
Spittling at their own
So she’d move.
They’d get married
They’d get bored,
Seek other outlets,
They’d focus on the negatives
While they’d have screaming matches,
Then those images
They had promised.
Fuck preconceived notions given to me
Fuck the standards
Single minded entities
With masochistic inclinations
Laden with sorrows lashed out;
Leashes, held by ownerships.
They pled for destruction
Laid in their wake.
Knowing it’s pain,
They go back running,
Referring to it as naiveté.
They’d amble in the unknown
Rambling about affected pleasures
Within weighted sparsities.
Pulled out identities.
“Well, I hate bad people”
“What makes someone a bad person”
“Well… if they’re masochists..”
How many of those words
That took form from your lips
Deface my intent, please,
Have all the pieces,
Denied the right, please.
Will get you to places.”
While this love
I won’t listen.
Am I allowed to think
That I could be
More than what I am.
Secondary instances of trumpeting vertices squealing;
Following dictions of lasting underlying immanence.
Robbers spurting reasons, burr overtly, non-contextually;
Bobbing knobs curtly tossing into impenetrable frozen sheets.
Neatly disheveled performances, wrapped in prides
Of unmitigated brutality; how quaint: such delight.
A previous hour revisited, guiding unfolding why’s
To already perceived errs of expectant containers
Of slowly baked stories with imperceptible gibes
Folded at the cusp of unimpressed customs met.
Negated currencies by avoidance out of fear
From additional pressures of dualistic leers.
Unified expressions of “go fuck yourself.”
Of rifts willfully drained, inadvertently.