guilt trips laugh like
sore lungs, blocked throats coughing up
headaches that feel like
inflamed brain pimples

and I'm sitting here with a smile
crowbarred painfully open
grimacing with a frustration that
convinces me that I'm stupid
(or that someone thinks I am)

and between pulling back inclinations to
muff you, shoving all that whining
back down your throat
i realize I'm breathing in spurts
practically suffocating
to keep all that energy generated from
your miscarriage of my intent
from hollering out of me

and I catch death peeking around the corner
and brood, in a legitimate silence
you'd better not disturb with anything but
an apology

November 11, 2004