Go ahead
and tell me again
of your last regret,
of your circumstances.
I don’t mind,
just get it off your chest.
Spit it out;
your whole life in a curse word.
Funny,
how all you do
is complain
and not do anything
about it.
Watching you fracture your skull
against a wall,
like there is no way around it,
or through it.
This doesn’t get any easier.
I thought we were friends,
but it turns out
I’m just trapped in Hell
with you.
I wonder what
it will do to you
when I leave for good?
You see,
I’ve had a back-up plan
since I walked in here
with you.
My back’s against the wall
and I’m about to pop smoke
and disappear.
So, quickly,
in as few words as you can,
tell me;
what is your fucking problem?
You sit there,
open mouthed,
aghast that I have even
spoken at all.
I wonder for a second,
if I have miscalculated
my decision,
but then the tears come
and the truth follows.
One more step towards
both of us
walking out of here together.
Out of Hell.
I hate this place,
it reminds me of Home.
HG – 2018
