Unwinable

At the end of the line, I
don't want a big moment,
or a huge to do.
I'd like
to maybe just sigh.
Yeah,
Maybe just sigh.

I don't know, indeed,
what this whole affair
must have been like for you;
as for me it feels
like I've been pressed
under the heaviest rock.

No, I don't expect you to get it,
and I don't expect
you to understand.
Not for a lack
of ability or insight,
but because you can't walk
the steps I have to take.

I can't cry for you.
I want to.
I want to weep and wail and call your name.
But if I mourn
I'll be taken out back,
and shot again,
like the dog the world calls me.

So yes, I fume.
I hold back these worthless tears
that don't mean a thing to you,
and are considered an act of war
to everyone else I love.
I hold them back
and I choke on them,
or,
at least I wish I'd choke.

Sex bores me,
it whores me,
and I bet you think
I wanted any of this.
As if my grand scheme
was to fuck everybody up,
and leave myself and you
just a quivering mess.

I've no idea about tomorrow.
You told me your disappointment
in that you never saw me get upset,
nor angry,
nor hurt.
Well, today I can tell you
my heart breaks, hard.
And who else do I get to say that to?
Because once again
it's more of the same,
and if I cry
I'm declaring
yet another unwinable war.