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the atrocity of loneliness is the hallmark card of the postmodern conditioning we undergo that systematic process of dehumanization so when will i find you and when will i wake up and when will i be loved and when will i escape this prison of four bare white walls and silence when can i come to depend on your voice filling the void i seem to remember drinking with you on the couch your eyes closed and we went to bed until you woke and pressed my hand to your breast pressed your yearning body to mine and used me for a night seeking solace and comfort in the touch of my skin and my lips your need and your desperation hurt and we were both raw in the morning i used to want you i used to want you to be my wife now i simply crave cessation and nullification desiring them like a lover's cunt i want nothingness and dissipation i want to forget your fingers on my body and your letters in my head and i burned the sheets you slept on so i can finally reclaim my bed and i tossed the notes you wrote into the fire for good measure if i was drafted to be your caretaker i have apparently discharged my duties well you claim to be happy when we speak on the phone but your voice is flat devoid of any joy and absent is the happiness i used to hear when you would call we never use our pet names anymore and you frequently remind me of a firefly that's slowly dying and i can't stop you from burning out

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Last modified on Wednesday, March 26, 2008