4 Years Spent

Because I felt the need to word vomit.

I'm making up words making
up phrases, but when midnight
hits 12 AM, I flee. Every effort I
make to make sense still leaves
me cryptic, still, you say, "Needs
Work." But these senseless questions
bring me pointless answers,
you're nothing compared to
who I am (underneath) I
can hear you taunting through
the floor boards - warped at
the corners, like me. I can
hear you in my soul screaming
incompetence, 4 years spent, a
waste. You tell me to bob
since I know I can't weave, and
somewhere inside, you speak
the truth. I look into my
eyes trough your gold plated
pickups, as you ask "Now do
you see what's so wrong?" But
you are my homeostasis,
and I am your whole truth -
I never found your miracle. You
have to believe me when I
tell you I've tried, but my flaws
are inoperable and I'm sorry. I
had never heard you so elegant
as when you said goodbye.
(Oh, God, I've lost you.)

Author's Note

I know that it doesn't flow,
I've been working on rearranging it.
I don't know what to do with it, really.
It started on post-its.
At least they're all together now.
One big, happy family.