Echoes Below

The morning raids my feelings. And we're left behind at the beginning. Did it ever matter that you ransacked me? That we occasionally still share a flat from time to time. I play getting by. But the loss is hitting me in ways I couldn't foresee. If you felt happy at being the one who brought me out of my shell, watch now and see me retreat into my lowly shell. I know who you see and I'm in an exercise group being the token bloke. The fascination stops there given I'm at the midway point among all else. I kept pushing and pushing but my body has given out. It's nice of you to say you feel guilty but it doesn't do much for me. I still live with the pain. There's not a whole lot from which I can gain. If I could retreat further, if I could all but disappear, maybe I could feel something again. Both of us will move out, another chapter in our lives gone. You just had to needle your way and blame past history on me. You never took account of your actions until yo...

It's weird to hear myself being talked of as the enemy. I'm the one that steals his time with you. "What did he want?" I never thought I'd see the day. I never thought I'd be talked about like a pirate that hoards the bounty. I guess it must've always been this way. Down the lines of guilt entrapment, the recognition flows into seeing what we have here. Of what was and what is now. I guess I know my place in all this. I guess you enjoy one man's paranoia and lust and another's defeat. Go ahead and play the guilt, it doesn't change the mess I'm in. Yesterday's heroes are tomorrow's problems. There's nothing here that will change our lives. Closing the chapter. I wore you out with everything I had to deal with. I wish I had your energy now. I just feel you misread me on certain levels but it's not like I helped myself with my actions. I just wish I wasn't around to know of myself as the enemy.

It's here where we part with differences. It's here where I yearn not to see all the paraphenalia that you possess. It's here where I yearn not to hear you crow about your new heros of political vantage point. I'm not enamoured with your lust in identity politics. It's here where you will enjoy someone who has the same outlook as you. The one that doesn't go on about every new war in the world.  The coded smears for those you despise, the newfound lust in evangelical preaching of hatred. Dehumanising the enemy. It just isn't right. But then I do it too with politicians and their actions I object to. So it makes the point moot. But the point still stands in your dogma. In your language. I'll never understand your evangelicism when reading things that preach to your sensibility. "Then what does that make me?" Biological "Then what does that make me?" Pathological We're all the same in the end, it's just you want to intensely foc...

Dedicated time, an absence of logic - all to say the dream is over. 

  Swimming against the tide, I dreamt of another world. Where else can I lie for a day and weep in silence as the pain ratchets up its tally. I find the cushioning decline in time over what was once a man skittering on the edge of health. I saw your dead body in the blink of an eye. Only makes me wonder what is going on in my mind. Can I lay here in silence in this room? Will the lights be too bright? Will it become my tomb? It won't do me any good to be here with all your memories that cut me up like glass. To say goodbye in the hallway. To listen to the rain drown out my thoughts. I would've done the same if I could but I don't have the confidence. Our neural pathways no longer connect.

Inelegant design, perhaps the stage will think it's mine. I wish to be rid of the physical and psychological exhaustion I put on myself. Love withers away, the pain is circumspect.  Inelegant design, what future did we pine for in our youthful days of abandon. Someone can tell me when I'm not overcome with emotion. Inelegant design, what of these presents we got each other. Do they carry much meaning outside of festive occasions? The wonder of life doesn't feel so special anymore. The dreams we had lost in our own respective conditions.  

  I am the source for your misery. The pathways of resentment slowly rising over when I lashed out. In a way I knew I was slowly being edged out of the equation. My frustrations built up and I had nowhere else to place them. But now we've made our peace. Brokered a deal which suits you best even if it pains me greatly that it came to this. I'm not the one for grand sweeping statements or sentiments. You've often criticised me for not doing things you want me to. I cannot physically make it happen and when it does, inwardly I'm given hell for it. Considerations must go both ways. The more you criticised, the more I felt I wasn't good enough. I guess you were hoping for the opposite effect. I am the source for your misery. The pain being involuntary. The more times the same bad memories brought up to shame had their desired effect. Words twisted beyond lives can mask. And all I ask is forgiveness. I live with a haunted past, things that I want to bury but come back to...