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by Bakka Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Contest Entry · #1610131
Cycles of a dysfunctional relationship.
I
The Tension-Building Stage


Why can't you just be happy? I mean,
I do so much for you, and let you live here so cheaply.
And why? You can't do anything right. I asked you to clean the kitchen, but
you didn't sweep the floor right, didn't take out all the trash, so now,
you're just going to have to do it all over again.

Why are you upset? I never
said what you thought I said, and even if I had,
why call me down like this? You're being condescending, and it hurts me, but
I should just learn to expect that, I guess. Don't know why you have so many problems
with me. I never get angry with you.

Why don't you bring these things up to me? I can't
fix it if I don't know something's wrong, and
why do you say you've tried? Well, then keep trying. It's your job to make the effort.
I'll decide whether or not to indulge in these illusions of yours. Why do you want to be
around me if you think I'm so awful?

Why do I lock myself up in my room? I don't
want to disturb you, since you think my music's too loud.
Why can't you just knock? Sure, sometimes I snap, but you should be stronger, know
that it only means I love you. I'm dealing with some serious shit right now,
so of course I don't want to talk.

II
The Explosion


Stop shaking, and look at me when we're talking. Jesus, you just
sit there like a idiot and no,
I will not back down. You were the one who started this.
Don't tell me I'm scaring you,
that just pisses me off.
So you want to hurt me, is that it?
Then what do you want? I give you everything. I spend
every fucking day seeing to your needs and making things around here
as comfortable for you as possible. How dare you say I'm shitting on you.
That makes me mad. That makes me real mad and I know
you been talking about me behind my back.
You say I talk about you too? Well, you are
a slob and you do leave this place a mess
and hurt my feelings and you avoid me.
I'm just being honest.
It's not my job to pick up around here. I'm
too busy working on other things and
how dare you question what I do. I do plenty and
it's all for you. Why can't you just fucking see that?
I swear to God sometimes
I just want to strangle you...
Oh, just great. A panic attack.
how convenient. Well, go on,
run off to your room, but
This Isn't Over.

III
The “I'm Sorry” Stage


I sure love you today.
Hey, come play with me.
I made you something. Do you like it?
I want to talk to you about what's been going on.

I love you.
You're so pretty and smart.
And you make me so proud to be with you.
But you can't be afraid to talk to me. I won't hurt you.

Take a break.
You've been working hard.
I'll take care of this, you just sit back.
I'll put in a movie for you and we can smoke a joint.

I'm depressed.
I'll go get help. I promise.
I need your help. Need you with me.
I can't do any of this stuff without you in my life.



                                       D.C. Al fine, ad nauseum.
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