exhaustion

She keeps me
Locked in this dungeon
Bound by cold, ancient walls
Damming despair
At the whim of her happiness.
I am the one with the problem
As defined by her imagination
And what an image that is
When it can’t see past the end of her nose
to peer at the hope
and beauty
that is the actual definition
of me.

One such definition
Inked by another
At the expense of no one
At the expense of the damned’s fun
Maybe
But not even
Because even those
Locked in dungeons
Have feelings
I have learned.

I belong in the court
With the finest of things
Which are shared
In equal amounts
To those who know truly
What it means to be living
The days and weeks
Years and decades
That pass by the innocent
That time is what I am fighting for
I want my time returned to me
But I would not want this
Had it not been for you
And your foolishness
That which forms the most complicated unsolvable mathematical equations
And the most inarticulate conundrums known to any language
This foolishness molds the urn spun on the potters wheel of Einstein
None of it assists with the functionality of the heart.
And I feel it safe to say that the angles of your perception
Are unequal to any linear thought.

But I won’t bore my guests
With the details of my heart
Because their stories
Are worthy of my ears
And you
You, in all your infinite wisdom,
You alone, as you like it,
Couldn’t find my ear
With two flashlights
And a compass
And a map labeled with every square inch of my anatomy.