Scream for Me

I want to hear you calling, loud and furious into the deep sky that I used to call the cover. The cover of our sins, the hidden protection from all things evil. The evil things got to me, they wrapped me up slowly and took over our warm home and turned it into a place of misery and solitude, not the good kind. As much as you ignore the fact that it was you, you were the evil that stole me away from myself. I'm not sure how you will take this, as a scolding, perhaps a silent brush of comfort, maybe you'll take it as the forgiveness I can't seem to give you. You tore me to shreds, you ruined everything good. I am set of destroying you back my love. I am taking the one you love. I am running away.

I learned swiftly to stay still in your wild bursts of compressed vexation, the minutes you would loose yourself in words of exaggeration, your exhaust showed, sentences slurred together in what seemed like such an abate of concentration. Parts of your mind flew in different directions, I clutched on bed sheets I could use as a shield. You always told me I drove you wild, and in these moments you truly did look like a beast, and not the kind you pair with beauty. But, there I was, with the slim face you loved to feel, the hands that gave you comfort in the times following the beast breaking free. I was nothing but terrified, I feared the warnings, the shows I had watched with such a hard chest, the fear I recognized on actors faces, but I was not acting. Not even close to it. I thought maybe it would pass, that you would ease slowly from the flaming throne; but you seemed to be enjoying it. I knew it would be the last I could handle, a thunder of intense words, a vocabulary not large enough to make me feel as grim in the moment as your mind was always ready to down poor against yourself.

You always cried, after that is. You'd cry against me about the words in your head, the distracting way of life you lived. You say that they overflow, the mean things in your head, and sometimes, sometimes it's just too much. That always made me think about the animals you shoot on the weekends, you always come back smiling so full of existence, not at all like the empty shell you leave in. I only think of this due to the overflow, what if? What if you came home, the joy not yet consuming, and you decide to take a few shots at home. Waiting for the joy to reach you and fill your stomach with warmth. I worry that someday in the distant future that you would come, and shoot me in the heart just like you do to those animals. To feel the joy you always receive once you feel them stop their hollow breaths and I worry for my own hollow breaths.