A poem started at 18 and finished at 21

My head is spinning.

I know that you are winning and it’s killing me to feel the alcoholic poison course through my veins, coat your words and turn them into sugar cane.

I know it’s pessimistic but its truth-

I let myself be blinded by my youth.

Topless and cold I wonder how old you have to be to understand the concept of common courtesy.

Cover me.

This frustration just my murder me-

or take control of me and turn me into something that I don’t want to be.

Its days like these that I hate you.

I want to rip open your chest and infest you
Ingest you from the inside out then digest you.

But its not your fault.

With little contemplation its easy to see this entire situation is just a demonstration-

A manifestation of my destiny,
of my need and my want of a man who is less than me

Admittedly,

A fraction of this distraction is simply a reaction to the obsessive attraction that I have to you...

If you knew the things that I would do to you-

I’m glad you don’t!

I know you can’t be trusted,
I still haven’t adjusted to hating you after you and that girl you thrusted got busted.

But the largest issue of relevance is my intelligence-

At eighteen I should be celibate
But when it comes to you-

Its like I’m selling it.

I wish I could concentrate you
Dilute you with water and penetrate your soul.

Because to be perfectly honest
I don’t like you whole.

I like bits and pieces-
Milliseconds of time when I see you have a heart
When I know we’ll never be apart
And you’ll always want me--
But you still hurt me--

Your ability to mindlessly jerk me around disconcerts me.

You’re an expert in my patterns.

Like a ring around Saturn you confine me-
Like a vulture in the sky you define me as something dead that you can eat

Forgive me for sounding emo but I can’t express the damage you have caused without dark-rimmed glasses and too long bangs.