This poem is to you,
it’s unmistakable,
you’re my regret, oh,
that’s inappropriate,
your pain is disproportionate,
I tore your heart out,
you were supposed to die then,
but nobody ever cares enough for that,
broken-hearted,
long living,
figure it out.

Maybe you’re the one I never talk to,
down in a major city I chose to walk through,
in an ill-fated attempt to find you,
and have a break-through,
before I break-down,
or break it down,
real simple like,
the way you understand it,
or the only way I know how to speak with,
who gives up first, the chicken of the egg?

Is that where we end, am I a chicken,
because I’d never tell you this,
not on my best day,
when my inhibitions to speak,
are put on lay-away,
and I forfeit my deepest secrets,
deeper than the gulf’s oil plumes,
our love was running on fumes,
in an empty tank we couldn’t fill.

Maybe you’re my friend,
that wants to be more,
but I can’t see through,
your vault-style front door,
you won’t let me in,
even though you want to;
are you saving me, or you?

Maybe I want to see you naked,
I want to see you sweat,
and see what you will do for me,
and that’s inappropriate,
because it’s honesty,
and who are you kidding?
honesty’s forbidden.

Maybe you’re one of the army,
I march onto the pitch with,
and I’ve got your back,
through thick and thin,
count me in,
I’ll save you every time,
or at least take the fall,
all for one, one for all.

Maybe I want to love you,
but I’m afraid,
too used to dancing on a razor-blade,
trying to find someone to hold,
when everyone wants to get laid,
but that;s inappropriate,
because it’s the truth,
don’t let it come out of the booth,
or they’ll come for you,
and shut you down,
you’ll never work in this town,
again.

Maybe your life is a mess,
and I want to pick up your pieces,
or I tried before,
you abandoned me,
but who’s counting?

Maybe I left you for dead,
ripped out that heart and said,
you need to move on,
love somebody else it’s easy,
just like they do on the TV,
at least try,
and that’s how I waved goodbye,
once or twice,
and I’ve got back that pain thrice,
or fifteen times over,
and it’s not easy to handle sober,
so I stayed drunk,
and so stoned I just slept,
until I forgot the reason I wept,
and rolled over to a brand new day,
can you say the same?

Maybe you’re my mentor,
a real role model,
but where are your skeletons dancing?
How big is that closet?
Was there a time you failed,
and truly lost it?
You don’t know where the edge is,
til you’ve gone over it,
and maybe you have,
and it shows in your eyes,
from the scars that reflect out,
and shine back off my own,
that’s communication,
that’s truth.

Maybe I still love you,
and I watched you move on,
or regress back to a useless state,
where you can’t help me, and you’re killing you,
so what good are you,
and who am I to judge?
Your brain’s permanently fucked,
mentally-fed yourself date-rape drugs,
until you’re a zombie,
and I can’t look at you.

And here I am,
it’s one A M,
the game is over,
it’s time for bed,
but there’s always so much,
that remains unsaid,
and I’ll never say,
talking to myself,
a broken soliloquy.

I live like that,
and the words kick holes in my silent demeanour,
like Rakim kicks holes in speakers,
the sound begs to live,
and I try my best,
but you know my best was never good enough,
for me at least,
and maybe for you,
but that was my decision,
and the truth of it is frozen,
dangling in time for you to read,
but you’re hindsight-illiterate,
and your rage blinds you more,
so what was I was there for?

Nothing,
and I vanished like the wind,
the way I came in,
before pulling out,
to applause from the crowd,
for my clever joke,
which leads nowhere,
except the end.