Futility

I know you. You are unremarkable
Small
You can't talk well

Words tangle as they came out of your mouth
Those bad faith words.

Yes, I think I know you.

The blinding fury
The rage that made you stagger
A mood that burned through the midnight hour
A hate that carried you for a long time

You drank
The poison, and prayed
Your enemy would die.

The problem with the best ideas...

It’s so easy to be a man.

Another woman. Another drink. Another joke at the expense of someone weaker. Another decrepit fool who in his space of farts and spilled beer can pitch anything worthy into the trash and find respect.

I want you to listen but you slide your eyes over my face instead. Maybe you’re right about that woman next to you, but I don't think you are because you're wrong about you. On the bed or the bar stool; you treat them as interchangeable stacking objects, give you convenience or give you death. Hot water and whisky. The wheeze in your laugh makes me want to vomit, and I don't swallow it for you. The vomit splashes on your shoes, the tiniest amount. You don't turn your head as I cough.

Not with a bang, but with a whimper.

I remember how we were,
The things we did together.
You knew you could count on me
I thought we'd be friends forever.

But...

In the end we drifted out of touch,
Two people, always busy.
It's not that friendships end, as such.
They simply stop being easy.

I wish I did anyway.

Grocery shopping for herbal tea
Then selecting courses, canned;
He grabbed my arm to move me past.
I bit his fucking hand.