Listen

Tims is killing me.
My future has rusted.
The cup is lost, neither full nor empty.
I cannot even gain perspective.
Thoughts are in shambles.
Pieces I gather but cannot
arrange in coherent order.
Idecipherably fucked.
Some are missing, others
I do not recognize as my
own. Who's in there?
Flee! My mind is a prison
in need of no other
prisoner. They push my
meals silently under the
grate. No other contact.
No loved ones write, for
they do not know the
address where I reside.
Within these walls I beg
to scream, pleading to have
my voice heard. Someone
has wired my mouth shut.
Insecurity and inadequacy
lace my lips with invisible
threads. And him. He
who pretends to care.
Loves this pretty face,
but cannot face the
demon in the rose-shaped
mask. Every rose has its
thorns. They hide amidst
foliage and prick the
fool who yearns to
tame me. When all I
really want is to be
tamed. Untie me and
see that destruction
is not fate. Sedate me
and Listen. No one
has ears. You are ear-less,
shallow and hollow. Shells
with no snails. Just a slug
at heart. Nothing to
hide behind, where will
you run to when you
leave a trail behind to follow?
But I will not follow,
No. For that shows compassion
I was never given my fair
share of. The flowers on
my desk cling to life, though
I know not why. Their
receiver is as fake as
the one who bestowed them.
And trust me. Neither
of us give a damn
if you live or die.