for you baby blue

Are you really Proud to be?

or is it just me who sees that you have nothing that you want to offer –

not that you’d give me anyway.

but hey, ain’t this how we play?

You smack the ball hard to my side of the court

I could give a shit, baby blue.

Me too busy playing kick the can down this wide avenue.

At the park, you falter and you wait –

Was that too little, too late?

I am halfway over you;

No, not all the way yet –

but I hate having even this much fucking regret,

I am still reeling from the words you never say.

Why should today be any different?

Me the blundering idiot..

The sacrificial lamb you led me by the hand

and I went willingly with you straight to my own slaughter.

Christ…Rimbaud: “I am in hell, therefore I am.”

At least with you I know that I exist.

You make me cry, you then succeed.

I am then present. I exist for you in this.

You tell me: “I don’t like to cry.”

Sure, but who’s making you?

I doubt you ache, feel the sting or sharp slap –

It comes down hard, leaves the cheeks red with betrayal,

I am shame-faced, crimson red.

I bleed too.

You see but do not see.

If you do ache, love,

don’t look to me –

It is your own heart you break.

Divest – it is the watchword of the day.

I take each thing in turn: these objects,

these words, each thing in turn;

I shatter the whole of us to pieces – such pretty colors.

They never meant a thing.