He told me he had the sharpest pain,
right dab in the middle of his back.
Felt it my duty to relieve him of such.
Soon as he told me, he turned around,
and pierced a knife against his spine.
Paralyzing the only lifeline of
any dreams his mind could find
Seems he liked this pain that ran too deep.
Lunging through tendons and muscles,
stopping him dead in his tracks,
Too short of reaching the finish line to success.
See he liked this pain, enjoying the trickle of
this infectious procrastination…capacitating
each internal organ within him.
He looks me dead in the eyes with perfect intent,
though his tongue contradicts this whole process.
He tells me, he’ll do better, wanting me to believe
in what he has long put on the back burner,
leaving it laying there charred and crisp.
Wanting me to stay with him, while the
charcoal never ignites, just sitting and waiting for what?
Someone else to light that match.
I can’t do it…Wanting me to do what his
trigger finger will never let him do on his own.
I have become his reluctant accomplice.
Seems he is happy with having too little, too late.
Not strong enough to fuel his own dreams in the night.
Yet, instead he sleeps through the storm, and finds comfort
in those cold and lonely nights,
when inspiration is left dangling in the breeze.
Waiting for someone else to grab hold of it for him.
Playing tug-of-war with the forces that be,
leaning on-to my everlasting comforting.
See I must let him be, and
set my self free,
because HE
In him, I find myself lurking.
