A Tasty Tantrum
November 29th, 2014

I tried to tell you that this Hell was taking me from you,
but you didn’t care that there were bigger things for us to do.
You didn’t see the serenity – the promise in our passion,
you just wanted to see what kind of fiction you could fashion.

Now all bets are off and you scoff at the notion –
that the waves of space and time could put us back in motion.
I’m stopped in the stream, stuck staring into space,
concentrating, but these constellations don’t seem to form your face,

My soul’s scheduled to self-destruct and scatter,
and the explosion’s eminent – like life ever even mattered.
Let me turn into debris and drift, dreamlessly –
slumbering, and slipping into insanity, seamlessly.

Poetic protest to the past – to love’s that never last,
to laying lost and double-crossed and fading awfully fast.
Drifting into the rift – the right reality,
‘cause mine’s a falsehood full of misery and meant-to-be’s.

A tear in the timeline, and I slink right in,
and settle back down in my old forgotten skin,
and now I’m changing everything and everyone in every way,
and when I come back I won’t be writing this today.

I won’t be madder that you matter, I won’t feel for you at all,
and I’ll forget we ever were and that you ever made me fall –
in love or to my knees, ‘cause both just piss me off,
and now all bets are off again but this time I’m the one to scoff.

Yeah, I laugh at the lingering thought of you being worth the trouble,
Hell, I couldn’t find anything about you worth saving with the Hubble.