Every

Every

Sometimes I feel like every argument

I have ever had with a woman,

I have been encumbered with the wrong doer. 

For surely I can not recall self-initiating such endeavors

with aspirations of obtaining restitution.

As if I if were up to me the pain would desist,

I have no victory but idle return to other production. 

I am villain, wrong doer,

infliction upon the rest, vagabond of disappointment,

effigy erected and piñata of the people. 

Where is my comment booth, question box to utter

as if someone ever gave a shit? 

This is so blanket evident that no one ever has and

the fallacies of my temporarily believing otherwise

were games in self delusion, juggling hope and drunk on the vine of love. 

Fucking idiot,

there is no love,

all she ever cared about was filling time.