jennyalexander

i know there is a limit to your love that i am pushing
at least i find my own mistakes first
i never want to see your fist because of my thirst
my bendable will, my mistakable thrill
your unmistakable will is being abused,
but not because i use, i used, i dont want to use,
but am used, and am used to being used
give consent when i want to utter untrue contempt.
why my heartbeat rhymes with the wrong words
when my reasons are drugged to unconsciousness,
the unreasonable happens, i push the limit,
the line is persuaded to move an inch
and i am waiting, without any want, for the last push
off the seat of comfort created over months and carefully kept next to yours
because i wont jump, i am clinging to what i think my soberself seeks.