Untitled Poem (inflamed pus brain)

God, my head hurts My inflamed pus brain Folded over like a chef’s hat

Tried to solve an impossible puzzle

Imagine that

Burnt through circuits

Popped logic modules

Flooded control rooms

It hurts

No more

It’s hurts

Think I wrote a hundred thousand words

For her

Just to hear her ask

Again, again, again

She told me once,

“Just ask people questions.

People love to talk about themselves.”

I broke my brain

Against a people pleasing strategy.

It’s one thing to repeat myself,

But another to wonder

“How can she not know, yet?

How can she not yet understand?”

 

It is a joy to toil effectively

What’s better than truly tiring yourself out

And seeing your effort received

Seeing it do something good for someone

Just seeing it work

Knowing you are effective

Knowing you can

I thrive on that kind of loop

I can rest knowing I did something

And be ready to do it again

Seeing her laugh

I’ll generate a million jokes

Seeing her feel safe

I’ll hold her until my arms go numb

Seeing her falling apart

I’ll keep going until I collapse

I’ll even do planks 'til I collapse

Remembering

And all of it’s a joy

 

But now I know the nightmare

Of being with someone who rarely feels good

And who does not understand

The joy of giving and receiving

Her life was a river of stress

She, the perpetual victim

My words went through the funnels

Until my love was a threat

My support was pressure

My desires were demands

My needs were her inadequacies

And so on

And so on

And so on

And I thought

That if I wrote

And if I spoke

And if I toiled

I’d find a way to get through the funnels

With a nugget of something in tact

And, I mean

I did actually manage to do that

But it wasn’t satisfying

And it didn't last

Soon she'd be saying “love is supposed to be

wanting what’s best for each other.”

As if I..

*sigh*

She didn't even notice my patience

When after weeks of waiting

For her to have an hour of free time

I’d want to talk

All she saw was me needing something

When she was tired

I was an eyeball away from being a puppet

On the sidelines of her life

Yet she'd pick and she'd pry

At the 2% of me that dared remain human

I’d be blowing cotton candy

Nearly

Obfuscating the meaning of my words

Still, her alarm bells went off

CRITICISM, CRITICISM

Again I had failed her

And my iris turned into a blue-grey piece of felt

Upon me apologizing

 

Because I thought it was my fault

That she couldn’t understand me

I thought it was my fault

That my expectations kept being wrong

That I couldn’t yet guess the ways she

Was subtly not-quite-lying

And read between her lines

And trust her only the times

When she would follow through

So she could feel good about herself

(That's what this was all about)

But then be able to tell

The times she wouldn’t follow through

So I wouldn’t be let down

And she didn’t have to feel bad herself

(Because again that's what this was all about)

Seems silly but I actually tried

I actually fucking tried

 

But I failed

And my brain swelled

And my head hurts

And now I’m in the fetal position

On an empty floor

Pleading with no one

No more

No more

No more

 

She said she left me because I was stressing her out

And she was unhappy

 

Can you imagine how depressed that made me?

I have never felt like such a failure in my entire life

Not only did I love her

And not only did I try

But I became obsessed

I went to therapy

I studied nonviolent communication

I read relationship books

And self help books

I woke up every single morning

And thought about it for hours

Empathizing with her until I cried

Every

Single

Time

I became a puddle

A brainwashed schlup

With a new mind

Seeing things I couldn’t see

Over and over

Stretching

Striving

Anything anything

Just so she’d stop telling me

That “love is wanting what’s best for each other.”

So I never had to hear her say again,

“You want my company to fail.”

I wish I could tell you where my mind goes

Far far away

Anywhere but here

Popping my eyes into white rooms

And empty planets

Searching for something

Anything that isn’t me

Anyone but the one who keeps failing

At loving the woman I loved

 

Why couldn’t she just tell me

She didn’t like me?

Why’d she keep saying she

Wanted to be with me?

Why’d she pull me back

Every time I tried to leave?

Why couldn’t she just let me go?

Why’d it have to be because

I didn’t support her?

At least rejection is eventually over..

But this?

This is a never ending torture

And I’ll tell you one thing, darling

I’ll tell you what I know for sure

Is that the only person for whom this is torture

Is someone who loves you magnitudes more

Than you ever gave me credit for

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