doesn’t matter
 

this is not poetry or a song
this is me
and my angry ranting fingers
clicking quickly upon black keys-
like the heart you tried to give me.

occupy me with your time
with your silly little lies
and tell me you're sorry tomorrow

did it take the pain away
when you scratched my face
and dipped into my brain?

i need you i want you
i'll end up hating what you do to me
and blame myself for your faults

none of this makes any sense.

it's not supposed to.

angry doesn't have a zip code,
it comes and goes as it pleases,
passes the time in music and bad poetry
then calls again when it's hungry
staying, slowly fattening,
starving you and taking everything with it
like a bad marriage
or my words
lost and broken between us.

we'll sit and laugh and before i know it
you'll ask what it all means
and i'll scramble and stutter
and think of lies i've told before
as if searching the archive of my self-induced misery.
it's really all you wanted anyway, isn't it?
to hear the tales i've told so many times before,
to believe in the dream,
of you and me
and him and her and he and she and it
and what was it i was talking about
anyway?

it doesn't really matter.
it doesn't really matter.
it never really mattered anyway.

========== RedWillow ==========