All of this time that I have spent
crying, lying here on the floor,
I have hurt myself to great extent.
Only to end up turning sore.
All of this time that I have spent alone
in this cold room waiting for my beloved,
I have bled, turning everything to stone.
Only to reconcile what I did.
All of this time that I have spent here
wondering what to do from now on,
I have turned tears into smoky fear,
only to try and hit you into being forgone.
All of this time that I have spent
attempting to avoid your presence.
I have not managed to open the vent,
only, I still want to be in coalescence.
All of this time that I have spent unwillingly
and needlessly in a quilt of irregularity.
I have to break free from swaying lollingly,
only for a short while to gain some clarity.
All of this time that I have spent on uneven
ground and soils that lie fighting for room.
I have asked myself: am I alive or dead, given
or taken, drunk or sober, shall I abstain or consume?
All of this time that I am spending
writing these poems out of true love.
I am remaining in pending,
only to see a single ring dove.
All of this time that I am spending hoping
for a single seemingly simple notion.
I am thinking of something more than coping,
only a bit of sweet revenge to devotion.
All of this time that I will spend on this
malevolence, to get back what is rightfully mine.
I will get you back for what you may diss,
only remember that you're a bloody swine.
