Expedient.
I’m looking for the basics,
the most simple,
primal
syllables
to get through to you.
I’m almost down
to grunts and gestures, here.
Where did the wonder
of our communication go?
It’s like there’s some kind of interference
between us.
Or is it that you just don’t care?
I’m banging on your door,
whispering at your keyhole,
raging and trembling in time
with the ebb and flow
of your persuasion.
How did I let you talk me into this?
You demanded equivalence,
then you used my concessions
to tune me out.
It seems to me,
that your equality
means bringing me down
to your level.
Your refusal to come up
seems more like revenge
than true progress.
You don’t really want to play the game,
just knock all the pieces off the board
and say you won.
I guess,
we’re getting back
to pre-verbal childhood,
so you’re going to have to learn
the hard way, now.
This time around,
the world’s gonna knock you down
and no one will be left
to hear you cry.
Sadness
is the silence
of your own voice
echoing back at you,
back at you,
back at you.
You are your only reply.
I don’t hear you
like I used to.
It’s like the air
has been sucked out of the room.
I see your lips move,
hands wave frantically,
but we’re yelling in a vacuum.
HG – 2018
