Dear asshole

Dear asshole,
thanx for stealing my smile
with that soul dividing sigh
as you looked the other way
unaware of my drumming heart
beating and bursting from its cage.
It`s not as if you even saw me
when I tried to make eye contact
but still, how dare you!
My illusion comforted me,
a clockwork symphony ticking
to the whimsical desires of my
unfulfilled daydreams.
You will never know how long a
dream takes to hone and mould,
a personal, delicate micro world
balanced somewhere
between hope and opportunity,
where the merest nudge collapses
an entire mindscape of aspirations
and blind induced deception.

How could you have any inclination
of how deep you can fall inside,
terrified to look upon the
black eternal `within` when you
haven't smoked and flayed in the
crucible of polite indifference.
How could you know of the
long lonely Radiohead nights,
couched in a spiritless, restless
hope where the bedroom ceiling
fades past the horizon till
nothing else in sight.
How could you possibly know
of such things when every greedy
red breasted song bird has you
in their (transient) gaze,
canvassing with compliments
and subtle use of the arm.
Forever agreed with, acquiesced in,
flattered, NOTICED. How could a
spirit grow when constantly gorged
and fed on a feast of compliance?

So what if I couldn't breathe or
move when you glanced my way
the other morning,
so what if I found the sight of you
flicking your hair utterly compelling,
mesmerized as you ran those
slender fingers through its sensuous
waves, then quivered with an aching
silent frustration as I noticed how
the sun shone from behind
giving you an aura.
I`m delirious and frightened,
fragmented and splintered,
sailing through a deafening storm
while strapped to the highest mast.
Caught in the ebb and flow
on the tides of a suppressed,
itching emotion.
You have disarmed me completely,
reduced to a living, breathing death,
nothing more than a
memory of who I used to be,
a sweating, scratching
filthy `nothing`,
standing in religious awe
in the shadow of your paragon
of utter perfection.
So what is what I say, your not
going to do this to me anymore!

Never yours (until next time)
I. Surrender
.......................................................
(For Michelle)