Unevenly Marbled Steak

write please read and enjoy

When I looked at my eye this morning, it was an old state map of red and blue

and when it saw what you had done, I was farther than ever then from you

You reminded me so much of myself

find comfort in knowing this, too, has happened to me before

Coddle your inner child and he will turn unruly and vile

running amok with his spoiled intentions, poisons in whatever-intentioned vials

his voice louder and more immediate, charisma and emergency

in the volume from the hollow speakers turned up by broken dials

while the manner of spoil within rots wits, burns wicks, with wicked will and wile

I loved you while you were beneath my nose like sick incense on a pile

wafting the scent of your mischief and malfeasant misconduct through flower pedals and cloth

nostalgia for the cretin, the ingrate, delinquent and scum I was and am, the death of myself as a juvenile

sweet separation of vision, impartiality to indecency, I feed to the worm and the moth

Knives poised in two hands, two backs bared in embrace

you forced me to hold this in our exchange, and lied to my face

I have tasted my blood and been the villain of betrayal

fool yourself as the victim, twist and writhe away from your disgrace

it is not trust to forcefully fall onto a blade held by me, so you can clean up the blood you spill all over the place

I have been a thief, stealing attention and time, love and affection

driving wedges and preying on social links to break chains

internal damage to bodies that cast me out, with strength in the section

where the shadows on their x-rays played out dramas and pains

to my own shame and humiliation I didn't mark you to be dissected a year ago and split in twain!

This is heartbreak again, for I loved you my friend, but my heart is hardened to loss

I am prepared to endure you a dozen upon a dozen times more

if I were not, we would be aged much closer to each other, and what would I have been growing for?

I do not feel anger, disappointed, upset, I have none of the moxie to hoist the wrathful five sails of my grief

embarrassed a bit, that I enabled and encouraged and stood by you, promised never to give up and held such belief

for you'd only hear me if I say what you want to hear, and we may as well talk to the wind

at least the scent blowing back on the draft is bound to be blameless and kinder than the hot air you'd send

go with peace, find love, this last shred of respect like a torn up shirt in the woods is all I have left to offer you, my once dear friend.