My grocery bill was a cliché, cigarettes, dark chocolate, a milkshake yesterday; cupcakes, cigarettes, a milkshake today. Pitch-black toes, tousled hair, puffy eyes, easy smile, easy love I was a cliché. I give you bowls. No. Buckets, truckloads, and all the love you need I will give you. Tumble onto the sheets, burn the beds, scorch the air you can with everybody but me. The love I give you is of understanding. The love I give you the ton loads of love is a self-love. It helps me understand the more I understand the way you think. I want to know every inch of you for you are an anomaly till then. Sheepish smiles barely hide my selfishness and so in a somewhat half-hearted attempt to make up for my immense transgressions, I attempt in my own way to help out when I can. Yes. Transgressed, I have indeed, for what I have done is conceal a doing that aligns me with the worst of people. It makes me a user, a people-user, a violator for I conceal it all in my immense ‘all the love you need’ love. It makes me a cheat. You see the situation; I am in, the hen before the egg or was it the rooster or was it the egg first. I made the love I faked. Is that possible? I wonder.
I will believe for you. I will hope for you. I will trust in you because I need to understand that. I need to do that. This need, I repeat of is the kind wherein you extend the ‘e’, you extend the word to convey how much you actually do ‘need’ it that is the need I felt to be there for you. Will you complain? I wonder.
To change you must accept, the wizened tortoises always said. I begin to and then I stop. What I do is not out of malicious intent. I just help myself too while I help you. The vultures and the hawks met every few century to judge and deem what is right and what is not. The escapees and the remnants they left behind were the original transgressors. The conflicted few who did not completely understand ‘why-not’, most of them were driven to madness by those two words. The rest exhibited massive anxiety disorders and were prone to nagging fits and panic attacks. Was I one of these transgressors? I wonder.