All of your bitterness, gathered like wet wood in a dark and foreboding forest, falls across me with the desired effects. Sweeping in eddies and undertows, it blows over my downcast self as an angry storm over low lying ground. I'm not permitted to speak, not permitted to disagree, but as you rant and froth with the fevered pitch of a rabid dog, my 'other' self moves on, away and onward. Spittle wets my face and I make no move to wipe your hate away, suddenly elsewhere in my mind's eye, standing silently in the bedroom that we share, watching as you sleep.
I see you.
You're peaceful here, right now, asleep and spent of all traces of anger and annoyance of everything I say and do and think.
I see you.
You're a child. Tantrums and spitting fits, perfected over a lifetime of immature musings, dwell deep within you, buried from sight but always ready to erupt to devastate the landscape. The heat of your infantile madness sometimes boils from you like bubbling pits of foul mud, washing over everything unwilling to compromise and accept your rules. Like a baby howling for a deserved tit, your mouth screams for the attention you think you must have and demands all do your bidding, as I've always done your bidding before, without words, always ready to be what you've wanted; your bitch, your whore, your mother. The degrading sex you threw at me I took, all of it. I wasn't allowed shame in order to please you. I was property, meat, for play and to be disregarded when you grew disinterested. My love for you was reflected back to me through a dark and tainted mirror.
I see you.
You're a bully. Generally fearful of everything you can't control, of things you can't understand, you feel compelled to break that thing physically, verbally, emotionally, reform it to fit your idea of perfection. My eyes remember the swollen lesson you teach, my ribs the exclamation of your will. You're weak and unimaginative and can't tolerate someone who is strong of character and optimistic to all life can offer. You can't help but feel small and must mold circumstances and people to remind you of what a big person you should or want to be. I was your Light at one time, I thought, and you took it upon yourself to dim that radiance, your nocturnal nature prefering the shadows.
I see you.
You're narrow. You have no practiced social graces. Groups of people are harder to hide in, aren't they? You don't understand the world and are happy enough not to. You're jealous and needy, unwilling to let me express myself and nourish my friends and have a life away from your reach. You forage and collect suspicion like a truffle sniffing pig, rooting through the crumpled and decaying leaves of my life, turning over every stone in pursuit of a hidden agenda against you. You see me fucking every man that comes around us and it kills you that the proof should remain so elusive.
I see you.
And standing here, watching your steady breathing, the tiny flutters of your eyelids as you dream your dreams of self importance, your happy, simple little half-smile on your boyish face, turned towards the faint light of the opened bedroom door- I see you as you 'really' are-
Helpless
